


This Is My Kingdom Come

by Lise



Series: Remember This Cold [27]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aesir Politics, Canon-Typical Violence, Complete, Established Relationship, Fantasy Racism, Injury, Loki's a goddamn mess, Loki's overall lack of self preservation, M/M, Meeting the Parents, Odin's B+ Parenting, Politics, Post-Avengers Asgard, Protective Steve Rogers, Remember This Cold, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Thor Friendship, Thor Is a Good Bro, Trials, Trouble In Paradise, this fic has a lot of feelings, Ásgarðr | Asgard (realm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-12-14
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:52:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 68,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2627453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's starting to look like things might have steadied a little after the Winter Soldier incident. Then visitors from Asgard come calling, and it turns out the Golden Realm isn't quite done with its second prince yet. Steve, Natasha, and Thor rapidly find themselves caught up in Aesir political machinations, and Loki's at the center of it. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been in the works for a while. If you've been wondering why I've been so quiet...this is why. 67k later, I have the longest installment of Remember This Cold to date (including the thirty days of porn) and also the most complicated. It's been wild. But also pretty fun. I am posting this in five chapters, once a week on Sundays. The entire thing is written, so I will be sticking to that schedule. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic, guys. 
> 
> With much love to [ameliarating](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), who has to listen to me cry about my writing insecurities on a daily basis and also edits my work. Also with thanks to [portraitoftheoddity](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com) for her brainstorming help, and a number of my other followers for their cheerleading. This one's for you.

Steve was in the middle of watching Tony spectacularly lose a game of Monopoly to Natasha (“how is this happening? Who is the billionaire here? Do you even _have_ money?”) when the tower alarm started shrilling.

“Saved by the bell,” Clint said, grinning. He’d gone bankrupt about ten minutes in.

“Monopoly is _my_ game,” Tony said irritably, pushing himself up from the floor with a groan. “All right, all right, JARVIS, shut it off, what’s the deal this time?”

“My apologies for interrupting, sir,” JARVIS said politely. “But I have just been granted camera access on the eleventh floor, and there appears to be an unauthorized intruder attacking our guest.”

Steve’s heart jumped into his throat and his first thought was that Doom was back, somehow. He was on his feet before he was aware of deciding to do so, throat closing even though he _knew_ the dictator was gone, but maybe he wasn’t, maybe he’d just been waiting all this time. Thor went from lounging like a big cat on one of the couches to his feet at once. “Loki,” he said. “JARVIS, who-”

Steve noticed out of the corner of his eye that Clint’s grin had vanished. “I cannot identify the intruder by name,” JARVIS said, “but it appears based on attire that he is possibly Asgardian.”

Steve turned his head to look at Thor, who shook his. Steve’s heart pounded harder. Loki was still a wanted man in Asgard. If someone dragged him back there, or if some bounty hunters or similar had been sent to bring him back…

The elevator was too slow. So were the stairs. “Shit,” Tony was saying. “Shit, great.” Bruce stood up, eyebrows pulled together. “I guess we’d better go up and-”

“Too slow,” Thor said. He grabbed Steve and pulled him in close, picking Mjolnir off the floor. “Hold on,” he said tersely, and Steve realized a moment before what was going to happen.

“Oh no,” Tony said, as Thor started to spin the hammer. “Oh no, not my windows, not again-”

Steve turned his face into Thor’s shoulder to shield himself from shattering glass as they flew out the side of the building and up, curving in an arc to smash through Loki’s windows. Thor released Steve the moment they were on solid ground, and he staggered away, wobbling just a little.

There was one stranger in the room, dressed in magnificent golden armor and breathing heavily, breastplate dented and helm rolling on the floor across the room. There was a trickle of blood down his cheek, but the wound that had left it was gone. His grey eyes were hard, and focused down, one booted foot on Loki’s back.

Loki, who was sprawled on the floor. For a terrifying moment Steve couldn’t see him move, but then he heard the rasp of his breath and watched his fingers curl into claws. Steve’s eyes focused on the spear driven through his shoulder that pinned him to the floor like a bug on a pin. Steve started to move forward as Loki’s eyes flicked to him, but Thor pushed past him, radiating so much rage that Steve froze.

“What is the meaning of this?” His voice was a dangerous rumble and the man holding the spear nearly quailed before visibly gathering himself.

“Prince Thor-”

Thor shoved the man hard enough to make him stumble and then dropped down beside Loki. “Brother?”

“Fine,” Loki said, his voice audibly strained. “If you break it I’ll be better-” He broke off, and Steve moved forward as well, as Thor took hold of the spear shaft with one hand and snapped it off. Loki made a faint sharp noise, quickly swallowed, and started to push himself up, face pale and tight. Steve hurried over to help him to his knees. The blade of the spear was just visible through Loki’s light shirt, surrounded by a dark patch of blood, and Steve reached out but Loki caught his wrist without looking. He glanced at Thor, who nodded and rose, silent communication so natural Steve doubted they were even aware of it.

Thor turned on the other man, who had gone pale. “Your name, Einherjar,” he snapped. “I will know about whom I will be speaking to the All-Father.”

“Truls, Prince Thor,” the man said, and Steve couldn’t begrudge him his nervousness. “and I was sent by the All-Father himself, to retrieve the traitor Laufeyson-”

Steve saw Loki flinch and felt a surge of anger, wanting to draw Loki close and hold him, but he suspected Loki didn’t want him to – not now, not in front of this man. The sight of that broken shaft sticking out of Loki’s back was making him vaguely nauseous.

Thor’s expression grew more thunderous still. “My brother is as much Odinson as I am.”

“I merely repeat the words I was given,” the man said, seeming to gain some courage. “I was instructed to retrieve…him…and bring him back to Asgard for sentencing before the Court of Twelve.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed. “You lie, cur. The Court of Twelve has not met in an age, and my father has made clear – get you gone, Truls of the Einherjar. You are not welcome here.”

Truls hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Loki. Steve stared him down, even if the man – guard? – hardly seemed to acknowledge his existence. “I must fulfill the All-Father’s orders.”

Thor’s eyes narrowed a little further, and Steve heard a low rumble of thunder overhead. “You may try. But you will not succeed. If you wish to remain you will find yourself risking my temper.”

Truls went a touch paler, and swallowed visibly. Steve could see Thor’s right hand tighten on Mjolnir’s shaft. “He will not be pleased,” Truls said, but he sounded less than certain.

“Then he can be _not pleased_ with me himself. My father would not send men to _sneak_ my brother away without speaking to me. Go back to whoever your true master is and inform him that you have failed. If others return, I shall be less polite.” Thor’s voice was harsh, and he took a step forward. “Begone.”

Steve trusted that Thor could take care of this, and bent toward Loki. “Are you all right?” he said, quietly. “Do you need…”

Loki shook his head sharply, though his expression was drawn and he looked a little sick. “No,” he said. “I can heal it now. His spear was…modified to interfere with my magic.” Loki swallowed. “Though it’ll need to be pushed through first. If you’d sooner not…”

“Pushed…oh.” Steve swallowed hard. “No, I can…”

Thor returned, looking troubled. “He is gone,” he said. Loki nodded his head, a slight jerk, and Steve looked between them, a little surprised but not about to ask. “But he used an amulet, not the Bifrost.”

“That sort of magic is closely watched,” Loki said, his voice rough and quiet. “It is possible-”

“No,” Thor said, firmly. “Such things have been stolen before. You yourself managed it more than once. It means nothing.”

“What are you worried it means?” Steve asked Loki, dread starting to grow in his stomach. Loki’s lips pressed together and he shook his head.

“Nothing. Thor is probably right.”

Steve felt his jaw set and gave Loki a hard look. “Don’t try that. I need to know what’s going on.”

Loki’s eyes flicked away, then briefly to Thor. Steve kept an eye on him, and caught a very slight shake of his head. Loki’s eyes dropped and his expression went sourly displeased. “Normally,” he said after a long moment, “the only one who has control of items like the one Thor is describing is the All-Father.”

“I do not believe this is his doing,” Thor said, staunchly.

“If it is,” Loki said, “then he won’t give up. The next attempt will be considerably more forceful.” He looked a little pale, Steve noticed, and wondered if it was pain or fear.

Thor’s jaw set in clear determination. “We must simply be more diligent, then,” he said. “If whoever this is makes the mistake of trying again, we shall see to it they quickly rue their error.”

Loki looked bitterly amused. “You would only make of these walls a kinder prison than the one I would see on Asgard.”

“So you would have us do nothing?” Thor said, his voice rising.

“Thor,” Steve said, deliberately calm. “Maybe we should talk about this when Loki doesn’t have half of a spear through his shoulder?”

Thor’s frustration faded quickly to embarrassment. “Oh,” he said, voice slightly smaller. “Yes. I am sorry, Loki.”

“Don’t be,” Loki said, though Steve could hear the strain in his voice. “It’s not – the worst I’ve had. But I’d rather it didn’t stay there. Steve…” He sat up, and Loki eyed his face and then said, “would you fetch a towel from the bathroom? I’d rather not bleed too much on my nice carpet.”

Steve had the feeling he was being sent away, but he kept thinking about the length of wood sticking out and the idea of pushing it all the way through…he knew it was necessary but he didn’t want to do it. “All right,” he said, after a moment, the leaned forward and kissed Loki’s cheek lightly before standing up and heading for the bathroom. As he was pulling a fresh towel out from under the sink, he heard a sharp cry of pain and hurried back. Loki was bent over and breathing raggedly. Thor dropped the bloodied length of weapon with a look of clear distaste, his other hand between Loki’s shoulder blades. Steve felt a pang.

“You could have waited,” he accused, dropping to his knees and pressing the towel to the wound. Loki made a hoarse sound that it took Steve a moment to identify as a chuckle.

“Did not…wish you to faint.” Steve looked to Thor, who seemed a little guilty, but not much.

“It is done now,” he said. Steve glanced at what was left of the spear. The metal head shimmered oddly even through its coating of blood.

“If you’d told me I would’ve grabbed the First Aid kit too,” Steve said, but he kept his voice mild. He could feel Loki’s body drooping as his adrenaline crashed. “This should be wrapped. Some antiseptic probably wouldn’t hurt either.”

“It’ll heal,” Loki murmured. Steve made a face but let it go. He was trying to compartmentalize, but there was a belated kind of panic that kept trying to poke its head in. If he’d been a little bit slower, or Loki hadn’t had time to drop the privacy measures that generally kept JARVIS from ‘seeing’ into his rooms…

He could be standing in an empty room with no way of knowing where Loki had gone. Again. It was hard not to feel the urge to cling a little.

Steve thought he should be allowed to fuss.

Loki took a breath and pulled back from Steve’s hands, pushing himself off from the floor. He wobbled dangerously and Steve wrapped an arm around his waist. “Maybe you should sit down,” he said, trying not to sound disapproving. “Or lie down.”

“He should sleep,” Thor said. “The healing is swifter that way.”

“You are not my minder,” Loki said, a little bit of bite back in his voice. .”And I do not know why you are still here.”

Steve saw Thor stiffen, hurt flashing across his face. “Loki,” he said, a little reproachful. Loki’s shoulders tensed, and then slumped.

“Fine,” he said. “An hour, to satisfy the pair of you nagging fools. This has already interrupted far too much of my day.”

Steve wasn’t sure whether to laugh or wince at how Loki could describe being attacked and stabbed as an _interruption._ He glanced at Thor, who had a look on his face like he didn’t know either. “That’s fine,” Steve said, privately hoping that Loki would sleep longer.

“May I stay?” Thor piped up. “Just until you awake again. To keep Steve company,” he added, a little weakly. Loki turned his head, expression difficult to read. Steve almost held his breath.

“Do as you like,” he said eventually, and detached Steve’s arm from his waist. “I care not.”

Steve wanted to offer to help him down the hallway and into bed, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be taken well. He could see Loki was shaken, more than he wanted to show, and that was always a dangerous time to push.

“Leave the door open,” he did call, after. Loki didn’t answer, but the door to the bedroom did not close. He swallowed hard and looked at the drops of blood staining the wood, the larger pool where Loki had been pinned down. He needed to clean that up.

Thor’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Perhaps you should sit down,” he said, sounding a little worried. Steve took a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh.

“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just – sorry about. Sorry.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, looking down the hallway at the open door.

Thor let out a rueful sounding laugh. “Then let me say this – I think I would _like_ to sit down.”

They went over to the couch and sat down. For a moment, not being able to see Loki or even the room where he was made Steve’s heart beat a little faster, but he made himself calm down. If anything happened, they would hear it. And nothing was – nothing was _going_ to happen.

But he couldn’t be sure of that, could he?

Was Loki _never_ going to be safe?

“My friend?” Thor’s voice was gentle, concerned. “May I ask after your thoughts?”

Steve put his face in his hands. “How am I – how are _we_ supposed to protect him, Thor? From everything? We _just_ pulled things together after Doom and now someone from Asgard is coming after him.” He took a deep breath and forced his head to lift. “Thor…honestly speaking. Don’t feel like you need to be defensive, but…is it possible that this…that your father is trying to bring Loki back? Without telling you?”

Thor’s shoulders slumped. “It is…possible,” he allowed, unhappily. “Though I cannot think why he would say nothing to me. But it is a possibility.”

“And if that’s what it is…” Steve trailed off. How were they going to deal with that? There were all kinds of sovereignty laws that maybe would apply, but to the King of another _universe?_ Let alone that all the laws in the world wouldn’t matter if Loki was already gone. It wasn’t as though there were extradition treaties between Earth and Asgard.

Thor’s hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. “We will keep him safe, my friend,” Thor said, staunchly. “Even the All-Father should hesitate to challenge you and I united.”

But the crease between Thor’s eyebrows didn’t go away, and Steve had the unpleasant feeling that this was just the beginning.

* * *

Loki woke up cranky and hungry. He ignored Thor and made a beeline for the kitchen. Thor’s face fell, but he excused himself relatively gracefully and slipped out. Loki was wearing only a loose pair of pants, giving Steve a good view of the still ugly looking scar on the back of Loki’s shoulder, but it looked a week or two old instead of a few hours.

Steve was less worried about that damage than he was about other kinds that might be less visible.

“You needn’t linger,” Loki said, as he began frying some eggs. “I am quite capable of taking care of myself now.”

“I know that,” Steve said, watching the muscles in his back move. “But I’d kind of like to stay close, if that’s all right. I’m going to start thinking I can’t leave you alone.” He tried to make it a joke, but it sounded weak even in his own ears. Loki glanced over his shoulder.

“Aren’t you usually visiting Barnes at this time of day?” Steve frowned, worry bubbling up. He summoned a smile.

“You’re not trying to get rid of me, are you?”

“No,” Loki said, but after a moment that seemed like it lasted a little too long. “But if you are not going to show up you should probably inform him.” Steve frowned at Loki’s back, wondering when he’d gone from trying to kill Bucky to insuring Steve didn’t leave him hanging.

“I already did,” he said, after a moment. “I called and checked in. Are you all right? You’re acting a little…”

“I am fine.” Loki glanced over his shoulder. “Quite healed.”

“I more meant…” Steve blew out a breath. “Can you tell me what you’re thinking? About what happened? Do you think it is Odin?”

Loki was quiet for a long moment, the only sound the sizzling of eggs. “I think,” he said finally, “very little happens in Asgard that the All-Father does not know of. Furthermore, the Einherjar are specifically chosen for their loyalty and fealty.” Loki dumped the fried egg onto a plate and promptly cracked another into the pan. Steve could almost see Loki start to vibrate with tension and crossed the kitchen to lay a hand on his shoulder.  “So yes, I think Thor’s assessment that this is someone else is optimistic at best. Though I do not know why he would bother with me now. I had assumed he found Asgard well rid of me. His shame hidden away.” The bitterness in his voice hurt to hear.

“Loki,” Steve said quietly, “you know it doesn’t matter what he wants. We – the Avengers – don’t have to answer to him.”

Loki made a kind of stuttering laugh that was utterly devoid of mirth. “I don’t think he is overly concerned with getting your permission, Captain.”

Steve set his jaw. “Well, maybe he’d better _start_ getting concerned if he’s going to be sending warriors to Earth to kidnap people who’ve claimed asylum here.”

Loki turned, frying pan in hand and eyebrows raised. “Is that what I’ve done? Claimed asylum?”

Steve straightened up. “Near enough. You might not have said the words but you came here in the first place for sanctuary.”

Loki’s mouth quirked up at one corner. “I suppose. I doubt your friends will be so eager to defend my staying here, however.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, trying to sound more staunch than he really felt. “Thor-”

Loki flicked his fingers. “Will undoubtedly have to obey his father if he is pushed,” he said dismissively. “And then where will we be? But it is no matter. Perhaps he is right after all, and this has nothing to do with Odin.” Steve suspected Loki didn’t believe that, but the way he said it suggested he wanted to let the question drop, so he let it.

“I guess we’ll wait and see,” Steve said slowly. “But I’d feel better if you let JARVIS have eyes on you when I wasn’t here.” Loki turned off the stove and dumped the second egg on his plate, his nose wrinkling.

“I do not like the idea of having Stark’s computer watch my every move.”

“I know,” Steve said, “but would you be willing to put up with it? For me?”

Loki exhaled loudly, but then inclined his chin a fraction. Steve suspected he was more shaken than he was showing by all of this. He crossed the room to the couch instead of sitting at the counter, and Steve followed him. Loki wolfed both of the eggs and looked like he was considering licking the plate clean, but after a moment he set the plate down on the table and folded his legs up onto the couch, leaning into Steve’s shoulder. Steve put an arm around him without thinking and felt himself relax at having Loki there, pressed against him.

“Are you really doing all right?” Steve asked quietly. Loki made a sort of “mmm” noise, and Steve hesitated and then pushed forward. “It scared me, when JARVIS said you were being attacked.”

Silence, for a long moment, and then Loki let out a short little breath. “It happened so fast,” he said, after a moment. “I was a fool to believe Asgard had forgotten me. And yet a part of me – an even more foolish part – is relieved that it has not.” He made that stuttering kind of laugh through his teeth that Steve didn’t much like. “How idiotic is that?”

“It was your home,” Steve said quietly.

“ _Was._ And even then – not properly.” Loki shook his head in a small jerk. “Either way – no, it was not pleasant. But I will survive.”

Steve hated those words. Like surviving was enough, was supposed to be adequate, when Steve had seen too much of what Loki could survive. “If I’d been here,” Steve started to say, and Loki made a slashing gesture with his left hand.

“You can’t always be lurking around me, Captain. Besides, if you had been…all it would have meant is that you would have been in the way. Obstructing justice, and thus a target.”

“Is that why you were trying to get me to leave?” Steve asked, trying to keep his voice mild without much success. “So if someone else comes back – if a _platoon_ of those people come back – you’ll just fight them on your own?”

“I will not have your blood on my hands,” Loki said, pulling away and his lips thinning.

“So you’ll make me have _yours_ on _mine?_ ” Steve felt his hands ball into fists. “Why is it okay for you to throw yourself on the wire for me but not for me to help _you?_ ”

“Because you’re worth more than me,” Loki said, and it was such a flat, bland, declarative statement, like it was _obvious,_ that Steve felt like he’d been sucker-punched. He stared at Loki, mouth opening and closing, and something deep in his chest _hurt._

“That’s not true,” he said, trying to make his voice firm and not angry, because he wasn’t angry at Loki, not exactly. Loki shrugged.

“That you do not believe it-”

“You’re damn right I don’t believe it!” Steve could feel his face getting hot. “You’re not – people aren’t _worth_ things like lumps of gold. That’s just not – that’s not how it _works._ People are _people_ and you’re as much a person as I am.” Loki said nothing, and Steve rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Loki…it’s not okay. All right? I won’t accept it. And if you don’t – if you don’t believe what I’m saying right now, can you at least believe that you’re worth it to me?”

Loki looked like he was struggling. Steve waited, almost holding his breath, until he said, “I believe that you think it is so.”

It wasn’t what Steve wanted and his chest ached, but he didn’t know how much better he was going to get. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely. “I just…” he shook his head. “Whoever made you think that way, I’d sure as hell like to punch them in the face.”

Loki’s lips quirked wryly. “I suspect you would mostly be referring to me, Captain.”

Steve had his own suspicions about that, but he decided not to voice them. Instead he reached out and pulled Loki back into his chest. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said. “And I meant it, about…you’re not on your own, Loki. I’ve got your back. And even Tony…he doesn’t like people just barging into his tower uninvited, and Bruce will have my back – and yours.” Steve felt Loki shift and ran a hand down his spine. “And if Odin himself comes down here…I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

Loki’s laugh was muffled, but it was still a laugh. It didn’t make any of their problems go away, didn’t make Steve’s worry any less, but it was something.

* * *

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here yesterday,” Steve said apologetically. Bucky didn’t look angry, but then it was hard to tell. “There was…something happened.”

“What happened?” Steve wasn’t sure if he asked because he was genuinely interested or if he just knew it was the sort of question that other people would ask in this situation. Talking with Bucky was never easy, but he had to believe that it was getting better, and sometimes it did seem to. The question, though…he hesitated for a moment, not sure if this was something he was allowed to talk about.

He blew out a breath. “Just some trouble.”

“With Loki,” Bucky said, and Steve started a little. It didn’t sound like a question.

“What?” he said, a little unnerved. “How did you know?”

“You get a – look.” Bucky made a vague gesture by his eyes, looking like he wanted to fidget. “When you’re worrying. And I just figured…I dunno. Just a guess. But it is about him?”

Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek. He hesitated to bring up Loki with Bucky, most of the time. It wasn’t so much _conscious_ as just…he was so used to not being able to talk about Loki with anyone but Thor. “Yeah,” he said, slowly, after a moment. “It is – but nothing he did,” he added, quickly. Bucky said nothing, his head cocked slightly to the side. Waiting, Steve realized, and after a moment he added, “someone came, from – the place where he’s from, Asgard, and attacked him.”

Bucky’s eyes were sharp. “Not some random grudge, I’m guessing.”

Steve sighed. “No,” he said. “He’s…I guess on the run, kind of. We – I – thought they were just letting it slide, but…maybe not anymore.”

Bucky made a kind of “hmm” sound under his breath, his eyes skating away from Steve. “Is that going to be what it’s like for me if I get out of here?” He asked, after a moment. “In hiding? People trying to come after me?”

“No,” Steve said, quickly. “No – _when_ you get out of here, you can do whatever you want. Nobody knew who you were, so it’s not as though…”

“You mean nobody knows I’m the Winter Soldier.”

 _Were,_ Steve wanted to correct. _Nobody knows you were the Winter Soldier,_ but he held it back and nodded. Bucky nodded, a little shortly.

“I guess I probably killed most of the people who did know,” he said, after a moment. It was blunt and brutal and Steve held back the urge to flinch, mostly because he could hear the layer of self-hatred under the flatness. He was better at reading those layers now, he thought, than he had been before meeting Loki.

“Whatever the reason,” Steve said, stubbornly keeping himself calm, “the results are the same. And whatever you want to do…I’ll help you with.”

“What about your boyfriend?” Bucky asked, abruptly. Steve blinked.

“What about him?” He said after a moment. Bucky shrugged, eyes skating over to a corner away from Steve.

“Just wondering. How’s he going to get out of it?”

 _I don’t know. I don’t know and that’s what worries me._ Steve shook his head. “I don’t…why do you ask?”

“Should I not ask?”

“No, it’s just…” Steve squeezed his eyes closed and opened them again, trying to figure out how to ask _but why does it matter to you_ without it sounding all wrong.

Bucky was quiet for a long moment. “He comes around, sometimes,” he said. “Visits, I guess. Plays a mean game of cards. I’m pretty sure he cheats but I can’t prove it.” Bucky sounded like he was trying to sound nonchalant, but he kept avoiding Steve’s eyes. Steve felt a little giddy, and tried not to show it too much.

“I didn’t know you…talked,” Steve said, carefully. Bucky shrugged one shoulder.

“Sometimes. Yeah.”

Steve felt himself half smile, wondering just a little why Loki hadn’t told him. He could guess, though. “Well, that’s good to hear,” he said, still careful. Bucky just shrugged again.

“Anyway,” he said, after a moment. “Question still stands. How’s he going to get out of it?”

Steve looked at Bucky, considered smiling and saying that they’d figure something out, it’d all be fine, because Bucky had enough to worry about without Steve unloading his fears, but…maybe it was something about the way Bucky looked at him, a little too focused and intense but still… _Bucky,_ his best friend when there hadn’t been anyone else.

“I don’t know,” he said, honestly. “That’s the real question, and I just…don’t know.”

Bucky just looked at him, for several long moments, and then nodded. “You’ll figure it out,” he said, and somehow from Bucky Steve believed it and was reassured.

“Thanks,” Steve said, with all his honesty. “I hope so.”

He left with almost a spring in his step, wondering if maybe he could broach the subject of Bucky leaving sometime soon, moving out and living in the world again. As for Loki’s problem…they’d dealt with Doctor Doom, hadn’t they? And he’d just helped bring down HYDRA.

They’d manage this, too.

* * *

Steve had almost managed to convince himself of that when their next uninvited guest arrived.

Himself, maybe, but not Loki. Loki who was strung tense as a wire and didn’t seem able to keep still, pacing back and forth restlessly. More than once Steve woke up in the middle of the night to find Loki wide awake and staring at the ceiling. But Loki only nodded at Steve’s attempts to reassure him without seeming comforted.

It was perhaps a week after the kidnapping attempt that Clint appeared in his doorway while Steve was doing some sketching. “Steve,” he said, an odd look on his face. “You might want to get downstairs. There’s…” He blew out a breath. “There’s a woman in full armor on our sidewalk who won’t take no for an answer and a weird mark scorched into the street.”

Steve shoved his chair back and was on his feet at once. “Asgard?” He asked. Clint shrugged. “Does Thor know?”

“On my way,” Clint said. His voice was casual but Steve thought he could detect hints of tension in his bearing. He wondered a little guiltily what Clint thought of all this and pushed the thought aside. “But you’d better get moving. I wouldn’t trust Tony not to start an intergalactic incident.”

 _Loki,_ it occurred to Steve as he started jogging down the flights of stairs. _This could be a distraction while someone else…_ “JARVIS,” he said, “if you can, please…” Telling Loki they had another visitor might just make him panic. Steve took a deep breath and reminded himself that he needed to be honest and trust Loki if he wanted Loki to trust him. “…tell Loki to be careful, and that someone else from Asgard is here.”

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS said politely.

He emerged into the lobby to find Natasha, Bruce, and Tony already gathered there, crowded around a screen. Steve paced hurriedly over to them. “How long has she been here?” He asked, a brusque note sliding into his voice, shifting away from Steve and towards Captain America.

“Fifteen minutes, maybe,” Natasha said, straightening. Her gaze was direct, and she at least didn’t _look_ worried, but Steve was aware that might not mean much.

“I think she’s getting impatient,” Tony said, still bent over the screen. “Anyone else want to see how long it takes her to start smashing things?”

Steve took a breath through his nose. “As far as we know,” he said, “She might be a foreign emissary and we should treat her as such.” He straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders back. “She hasn’t attacked us yet, though I recommend you all be ready for anything.”

“Asgardians,” Steve heard Tony mutter as he strode toward the door. “Think they own everything. Watch _me_ get blamed for that shit on the road…”

Steve looked through the glass doors for a moment before opening them. The woman who had arrived was tall and was indeed wearing armor, her dark hair pulled back from her face. Her features were beautiful but currently set in a decidedly irritated frown.

He braced himself and opened the door. “Hello,” he said, politely. Her head snapped around promptly.

“Is this the home of Earth’s Avengers?” She asked, bluntly. Steve blinked. She didn’t much sound like a dignitary.

“Yes,” Steve said, after a moment’s pause.

“Good,” she said, and strode in past him. She glanced from Bruce to Natasha to Tony, and back to Steve. “Where is Thor?”

“On his way,” Natasha said coolly. “We weren’t expecting you.”

The woman settled back on her heels. “Then I will wait to speak with him.”

“Who are you,” Tony asked, somewhere between hostile and flirtatious. Steve couldn’t quite decide which. The look the woman threw him was completely unimpressed.

“I’m here to speak with Thor,” she said, and after a moment added, sounding less happy about it, “and Loki.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” Tony repeated. Steve stayed where he was, feet planted and arms crossed. She might have entered through the front door, but based on her attire she didn’t look anything but prepared for war. The look the woman gave Tony this time was definitely irritated.

“I could ask the same of you.”

“Me? I’m-”

“Sif!” Thor burst through the doors, Clint trailing behind him, and there was nothing but powerful relief in his voice as he barged past Steve and embraced her warmly. Her irritated expression broke into a relieved smile and she embraced him back, visibly relaxing. “By the Norns, it is good to see your face.”

“And yours,” Sif said, and then added, “especially given the welcome I have received.”

Thor shook his head, smiling. “Forgive them. Our unexpected visitors are not usually most welcome. My friends – this is Lady Sif, one of my oldest and best friends, and the second-greatest warrior on Asgard – after myself.”

“Better than you when you don’t have that hammer of yours,” Sif said, and bowed, though shallowly. “Thor – I am sorry, but I am not here for pleasure. The All-Father sent me.”

Thor’s relief deepened, but Steve felt himself tense. There was something wary and guarded about Sif, still, and after her first sighting of Thor she was sobering again, quickly. “And I am glad that he did,” Thor said, clasping her shoulder and still smiling. “There has been some confusion of late, I think, and it is good to see a friendly face and know that he has heard my questions-”

“Thor,” Sif interrupted, and then glanced quickly at the others. “Perhaps we should speak in private.”

“Nonsense,” said Thor. “Anything you need to say to me can be said to my friends.” Steve felt a growing sense of dread.

“You said you wanted to talk to Loki, too,” he cut in, trying to keep his voice calm and neutral. “Why?”

Sif glanced at him, and then to Thor, and lowered her eyes. Finally, Thor’s smile started to fade. “Thor,” Sif said, slow and cautious. “I am here because…the All-Father commands that the traitor Loki return to Asgard to face the justice that he fled.”

The last of Thor’s smile vanished. “So the Einherjar was not lying,” he said. Sif bowed her head, looking like this was the last news she wanted to deliver.

“He told me to tell you that…he had hoped to avoid a scene. That he did not want you involved.” Sif grimaced. “Thor…”

“He did not want me involved? Loki is my _brother!_ ”

“Thor,” Steve said, and was amazed at how calm his voice sounded. “Maybe we should involve Loki in this conversation.”

Thor’s expression hardened. “There is no conversation. I will not allow-”

Sif looked pained. “He told me to remind you that you are still a subject of Asgard, Thor. Disobeying the word of the All-Father is treason.” She threw a glance at Steve, and then at the others. “This is not a conversation we should be having in the company of outsiders.”

“It is not a conversation we should be having at all! Sif-”

“Thor!” Sif said, sounding anguished. “They are talking about having you banished! Not temporarily, _for good!_ ”

The silence was sudden and complete. Steve’s chest felt tight, like he couldn’t breathe.

“I think,” Bruce said mildly, “maybe we should get a conference room and the, uh, Lady Sif can explain what’s going on to everyone. Loki included.”

Sif didn’t look pleased. “This is Aesir business and none of yours.”

“If Thor’s in trouble,” Steve said, “that makes it Avengers business. JARVIS…”

“I will tell Loki to meet the Avengers and…Lady Sif in conference room three, Captain Rogers.”

“Thank you.” Thor looked stricken and angry and confused. Steve reached out to give his arm a squeeze, but his stomach was sinking down to his boots and his gut was telling him they were in trouble. That Loki was in trouble.

He didn’t think a rescue mission was going to get them out of it this time.

* * *

“Ah, Sif,” Loki said, as he swept through the doors, mouth quirked in an arrogant smile and the picture of haughty disdain. Steve wondered if anyone else could see the brittleness about it. “My favorite bearer of bad news.”

Sif looked like she’d taken a large bite out of something sour. “Loki,” she said simply, shortly, and then pointedly turned away from him. Loki sat down gracefully next to Steve, his hands folded delicately together on his lap. “Thor, I still think-”

“I trust everyone in this room,” Thor said firmly.

“Wisely or not,” Loki murmured, and Steve reached out a laid a hand on his arm, quellingly. Sif’s look was brief and full of venom.

“Fine,” she said, after a moment. “But not a word of what I have to say must go beyond those gathered here.” Her eyes lingered on Loki, who looked placidly back at her. “Understood?”

“Pretty sure there’s not really a market for intelligence on supposedly mythical planes of existence,” Tony said. Steve glanced at Natasha and Clint, but it wasn’t like they reported to SHIELD anymore.

“No one will repeat anything you say,” he said. “I give my word on it.” Sif looked at him, now, her gaze scrutinizing, and then nodded.

“Very well.” She turned to Thor. “You know Njörd and his kin.” Thor nodded, slowly. Loki’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Sif went on. “Of late…they have been making trouble for the All-Father. They and others, but Njörd and his… _puppets_ are first among them and the instigators for much of it.”

Thor looked puzzled. “What sort of trouble? Can Odin not simply force them to cease?”

Sif hesitated, then shook her head. “It is nothing…outright. Or it was not, at first. Whispers of dissent. Questions about the Court of Twelve. Some have begun reminding the people that the All-Father’s word can be challenged by its vote. Others murmur that it has been nothing but a puppet of the All-Father for too long.”

Tony leaned back in his chair. “Sounds like the start of a revolution to me. Not always such a bad thing. How long has this Odin guy been king anyway?”

Sif’s mouth thinned to a line, but it was Loki who answered. “Odin is not a king; he is the All-Father. He has ruled absolutely for perhaps four thousand of your years, and his father ruled before him. The Court of Twelve is a formality meant to appease the nobility, nothing more. Has the old Sea-King gone mad?”

Sif’s eyes cut to him. “No,” she said, crisply. “It seems he merely saw an opportunity. Perhaps he got the idea that he might usurp the All-Father’s power from _others._ ” Steve saw Loki’s jaw twitch and squeezed his arm.

“All right,” he said, cutting in in hopes of keeping Loki from responding. “I don’t know much about Asgard’s politics. I can see why this would be worrying for a lot of reasons – but I don’t quite see how this connects to Thor being banished-”

Loki sat up, stiffening. “Thor is being banished?” He said, the words directed half at Thor and half at Sif. “What-”

“Not yet,” Sif said, “but the threat is there unless _you_ are brought back to Aesir justice.” Loki blinked once. Sif looked like she wanted to start pacing. “It was their latest move, Thor. It was revealed…I don’t know how they found out, but that Loki was on Midgard and that you knew. That makes you a colluder in his escape at the very least, and some were murmuring that – you might have helped him get free.” Thor looked like he wanted to burst, and Sif hurried on. “I _know_ that isn’t so, but – this was brought before the All-Father. He delayed them for months, but now… Njörd has begun agitating for a reassembly of the Twelve in truth. He claims that the All-Father is blinded by his affection and that it is his duty to Asgard to…”

Thor slammed his hands down on the table. “This is impossible,” he declared. “Who does he think he is? I will return to Asgard and confront him personally to remind him of who it is he seeks to trifle with.”

“It’s too late for that.” Loki, again, and Steve looked at him in surprise. His face was a mask. “Isn’t it, Sif?”

Sif bowed her head. “For the first time in a thousand years, yesterday the Twelve voted to countermand the All-Father. The word was given that Thor Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard, must aid in the return of the fugitive Loki Laufeyson, or else face charges of treason against the Realm Eternal. The moment Odin knew…he sent me.”

Thor looked like he’d been punched in the stomach by something that could actually hurt him. Loki, when Steve glanced at him, was still impossible to read, and that made Steve feel more nervous. Thor began shaking his head. “I cannot believe – no. I refuse.”

“Thor,” Sif said. “Do not be a fool.”

Steve could feel his heart starting to pound. It was smart, he thought. This Njörd, whoever he was, must be smart. He had to know Thor would never give his brother up. But if he didn’t…

“I will take banishment,” Thor said loudly. “I do not care. I will not give in to these cowards who fight from the shadows.”

Sif glanced at Loki, frustration in her eyes. “Help me reason with him,” she said, to Steve’s surprise. “Surely you can see, despite your selfishness – this will bring Asgard to chaos! Civil war, even. Do you care so little for Asgard that you will be the catalyst for its destruction? For _Thor’s_ destruction?” Loki said nothing, and Sif wheeled back to Thor. “It does not matter, Thor! Even if you refuse – either the All-Father will send others-”

“Like you?” Thor said, his voice hardening. “Is that the truth of your coming here, Sif? To take Loki back if I should refuse?”

Steve let his hand ease away from Loki’s arm. Sif was right, he knew that. If Odin didn’t send more soldiers, this Njörd person might. And the Aesir knew where he was, now. Sitting here, Loki was like a bright red target, and Steve wasn’t stupid. They could take a few Aesir bounty hunters, maybe, but five trained soldiers? Ten? Or one sneaky assassin in the middle of the night?

 _You can run,_ he tried to think in Loki’s direction. _If you need to. I want you to stay alive. If you need to go…_

“I’m not going to betray you,” Sif said, hotly. “But you must consider-”

“ _I will consider nothing!_ ”

“Whoa there,” Tony said, starting to look a little nervous. Bruce looked like he wanted to bolt. “Everyone just calm down a little.”

“Get out,” Thor said, hands opening and closing at his sides. “Go, Sif. I will not allow anyone to drag Loki away against his will-”

“Perhaps before you declare my will, Thor, you ought to ask what it is.” Loki’s voice was quiet, almost inaudible. Thor’s glare at Sif did not budge.

“Speak, then,” he said, voice hot and loud.

Loki stood, smoothly, and stepped back from the table. His eyes were on Sif, and he glanced neither at Steve nor Thor. Steve felt his breath catch and wanted to grab Loki’s arm again, say something, but it stuck in his throat. “I, Loki Laufeyson,” he said, voice clear and steady. “Agree to submit to the will of the All-Father.”

“Loki?” Thor said, his eyes widening.

Loki raised his voice, slightly. “I will return with Sif, warrior of Asgard, to face trial as Odin All-Father should see fit.” His eyebrows quirked up, slightly. “Is that sufficient, my lady?”

Sif looked as flabbergasted as Thor did. Tony looked like he was choking on something. Natasha looked thoughtful, and Clint was frowning very slightly. Bruce, Steve noticed, was looking at him, something sad and sympathetic in his eyes. Steve averted his gaze and caught himself wishing Loki had bolted, had – _something._

“Brother,” Thor said, and he sounded uncertain and faintly anguished. Loki did not so much as glance in his direction. Sif shook herself, seeming to recover with difficulty.

“You are…serious,” she said, sounding thoroughly taken aback. When Loki just cocked his head at her, she shook her head again and stood up with one last glance at Thor. “I…very well. I…accept your surrender, Loki Laufeyson.”

“One request, if I may?” Loki’s voice was still polite, carefully formal. “I would like a period of twenty-four hours before departing. There are some matters that need attending to.”

“Accepted,” Sif said, without hesitating. “I…Loki…”

“Spare me, my lady,” Loki said, not missing a beat. He rested his hands lightly on the tabletop for a moment, and then inclined his head. “It has been a pleasure treating with you, Lady Sif. Avengers. If you will excuse me.”

He glided out the door the same way he’d come in. Steve stared after him, panic starting to thud in his heart.

“He’s going to do a runner,” Clint said, but he didn’t move to get up. “You know that, right?”

Sif shook her head. She still looked astonished. “The words of surrender are binding. Even if he tried, he would not get far.” Her glance moved to Thor. “—Thor…”

Thor shook his head. If he’d looked like he’d been punched in the stomach before, now he looked like he’d been kicked in the balls. “What is he _thinking?_ ” he said. “There must be some plan, some…”

Steve glanced at Natasha, but she still just looked thoughtful. Bruce was staring at the table. Tony, for once, seemed at a loss. “Isn’t he supposed to be our prisoner?” he said, eventually. “Can he just…you know, walk out like that?”

Steve grasped for that. “That’s right – shouldn’t Asgard have to deal with – with Midgardian authorities for this? Transfers of prisoners always…” He trailed off. Sif was shaking her head.

“Asgard has never…officially recognized the authority of any Midgardian government,” she said. “Your objections would mean little to either the All-Father or the Twelve. Sorry,” she added, belatedly. Steve’s head was spinning.

“What is…” He swallowed, trying to work moisture into his mouth. “What is Loki charged with? Officially.”

Sif glanced aside. “Treason is the worst of it. But there is also – accusations of attempted regicide, attempted patricide, fratricide, his actions on Earth and Jotunheim…and the matter of his escape.” Sif’s look at him seemed puzzled, as though she were trying to figure something out. Steve’s stomach couldn’t sink any further but it felt as though it wanted to.

“Wow,” Tony muttered, under his breath. Clint, of all people, cleared his throat and spoke up.

“What’s…uh. What’s likely to happen? What kind of sentences do those kinds of things get in Asgard?” His voice was studiously neutral, but Steve thought he caught Clint’s eyes briefly on him.

Thor’s head bowed toward the table. “There were whispers at his first trial that the punishment was too light,” he said quietly. “Imprisonment for life in Asgard’s most secure cells.”

“Which Loki’s proven can’t hold him,” Natasha said. Steve’s stomach was doing flips.

Sif nodded, very slightly. “Njörd has already declared that he would ask for the old penalty.”

Steve didn’t need to ask what that was. He could guess, and he couldn’t stay here and think of Loki, upstairs, _arranging his affairs._

“I have to go,” he said, standing up jerkily. “I have to – sorry.”

He strode for the door, managing to keep himself under control until he was out, and then he ran for the stairs, up the stairs, his heart pounding in his ears and his feet and his stomach. _Not now,_ he kept thinking. _Not now, not just when I got Bucky back, got_ you _back, they can’t have you._

Maybe there was a plan. He needed there to be a plan. He needed there to be _something._

He reached Loki’s door and banged on it, frantically. It opened and Steve just stared at Loki’s face, no longer a mask. He looked – pale and young and afraid.

“Loki,” he said, breathing hard. “Loki, goddammit.”

Loki’s mouth turned up, just at one corner. “I know you were telling me to run, Captain,” he said. “I am, I have decided, very tired of running.”

Steve felt a pang of guilt and pushed it down. “There’s a lot of distance between running away and – turning yourself in!”

“Why, Captain. Here I thought you would approve of my accepting the will of the law,” Loki said, and he sounded so _casual,_ so _careless,_ like he had no idea what he was signing up for. Steve took a step forward into Loki’s space, fists clenching.

“Maybe I would if this was about you, but it’s not! This is just – this is _politics_ and you know it.”

The lightness around Loki’s mouth melted away and he turned his back with a huff. “Yes, it is. Which is what makes it _imperative_ that I go.” His shoulders were hunched, slightly. “Be angry with me if you like. It changes nothing.”

“I’m not angry with you,” Steve said, and Loki snorted softly. “I’m _not,_ ” he insisted. “I’m just – what were you _thinking?_ ”

“I was thinking,” Loki said, his voice tight, “that perhaps I might do the right thing for once in my life.”

“This is the right thing?” Steve demanded, and heard his voice crack, breath hitching as he started to cry. “Throwing your life away? That’s not going to fix anything, these people will just find another way to grab for power-”

“This isn’t about Asgard,” Loki snapped, wheeling. “It is about _you,_ Steve. You and Thor.”

Steve fell silent. “You don’t need to protect me,” he tried to say. Loki let out a bark of laughter.

“You say that having never faced the might of Asgard. An Asgard which cares nothing for you or any other mortal on this planet. Njörd might see fit to raze it to the ground for the crime of defying its superiors.” Loki’s nostrils flared, his eyes dark. “I will not – will _not –_ be responsible for your heroic death.”

Steve’s mouth felt dry. “Don’t I get to make that choice for myself?”

“No.” Loki’s response was clipped, a door slamming closed. “You do not. And even if you did…”

Steve felt his shoulders slump. “Thor.”

Loki’s lips twitched at one corner. “Funny, isn’t it? Whatever I want, it always comes back to him.” Loki glanced aside. “Thor has taken the punishment for my actions enough. I will not let these – _fools_ use me as a tool to destroy him.” He shrugged one shoulder. “They will not be expecting me to return willingly. Perhaps I will catch them off guard.”

The adrenaline was fading, leaving Steve with a kind of hollow unhappiness. There was nothing he could do. _Thor wouldn’t want you to do this,_ Steve wanted to say. _I don’t want you to. Isn’t what_ I _want important?_ “Loki…” he said, and trailed off, feeling a little choked.

“For what it is worth,” he said, fingers brushing Steve’s shoulder lightly, “I am sorry. I wish…well. I wish a great many things.”

Steve grabbed Loki’s arms before he could step away and pulled him into a hug. A moment later there was a knock on the door, and Steve felt Loki stiffen.

“It is me,” said Thor’s voice, slightly muffled and gruff. Loki made to pull away, but Steve held on, and after a moment Loki sighed.

“Come in,” he said, his voice back to casual politeness. “I suppose. I may need some help prying the Captain off of me.”

“I do not think I am inclined to help with that,” Thor said. He spoke slowly, carefully, and Steve took a deep breath of Loki’s particular smell – sandalwood and soap and something vaguely like ozone – and turned to look at Thor. Loki was holding himself straight-backed, his chin lifted stubbornly. “Loki…”

“Do not try to argue with me,” Loki interrupted. “Steve has already tried, and you will not have more success.”

Thor shook his head. “I will not…if I thought I could hold you here, I would. But even I know there is no circumventing a summons binding. Sif asked me to pass on the message that you…you and I will be departing tomorrow evening via the Bifrost.”

“How gracious of her to inform me.” Something just slightly tart slipped into Loki’s voice, though it slipped out again quickly. “Whatever other words she gave you, I would advise you to heed those as well.”

Thor’s expression darkened. “I will not allow you to go undefended, Loki.”

“Yet again, you will not let me defend myself?” Loki said, with a kind of archness that Steve thought meant this was old ground. He kept his arm snugly around Loki’s waist, a fraction of an idea turning over in his head.

“You know as well as I that they will not let you defend yourself, and that any words you speak will only be used against you.”

“I might well say the same of you. Or did it escape you that I am just the only one _formally_ on trial?”

“Thor,” Steve said, slowly. “How does…how does a trial like this work?” Thor looked surprised by the question, and maybe a little annoyed to have his focus interrupted. Loki’s glance at him was a little sharper, and Steve hurried on. “I mean – is there a defense? A prosecution?”

“Of sorts,” Thor said, after a moment. “Though not so…formally.”

“What about witnesses,” Steve asked. “People who – talk about what happened. Give their point of view of events.”

A light of comprehension dawned in Thor’s eyes, and his expression brightened, just fractionally. “Yes,” he said. “There may be a time for witnesses to the crimes of the accused to step forward and speak.”

Loki made a harsh noise that was not quite a laugh. “Captain,” he said, and then amended, “Steve. Do not be a fool. You have no idea the viper’s nest you are proposing you throw yourself into, and for naught. The word of a mortal means nothing on Asgard.”

“Perhaps not,” Thor said, “but the word of one of Midgard’s heroes may.”

Steve nodded, drawing himself up. “Right,” he said. “I need to make some arrangements, then. Twenty-four hours, right?” He didn’t wait for Loki’s response. “Tell Sif your watchman’s going to have to plan for an extra passenger.”

“Captain,” Loki said sharply, and Steve turned on him, feeling his expression turn mulish.

“Just try to tell me to stay,” he challenged. “You don’t have to face this on your own, you know.”

Loki’s mouth opened, and then slowly closed. His expression flickered, brows furrowing and lips turning down at the corners, flashing through puzzlement and frustration and settling briefly on a wistful yearning that made Steve’s heart ache before it was all smoothed away. “And if that is what I would rather do?”

“That is not your choice to make,” Thor said. “And it would be foolish of _you_ to think you could command it of Steve. Or of me.”

Loki blew out a long exhale. “You truly are two of the biggest fools in all the Realms,” he said, and then shook his head. “Fine. You…make your arrangements.” He paced away from both of them and nearly flung himself on the couch, head thrown back. He did not look like he considered this a victory.

Steve threw Thor a helpless look. Thor opened his mouth, hesitated, and then shook his head. “I will go speak with Sif,” he said, more to the room than anyone in particular. “Loki…”

“I know you will not change your mind. But please refrain from idiotic heroics.” Loki’s voice was flat, and he didn’t glance over. Thor gave Steve an uncertain look, and then turned and left, more quietly than he had entered.

Steve walked slowly over to the couch and sat down. “You don’t seem happy about this.”

“That is because I am not.” Steve tried not to flinch or feel hurt at that, just sat down next to him. “I am trying to keep you out of this and you insist on throwing yourself into the middle.”

“If I were on trial, would you let me do it alone?” Steve asked. Loki’s mouth twisted down at the corners.

“Irrelevant. If you were on trial, I doubt it would be fair.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “And this is fair?”

“Can you deny that I have committed crimes? And yet here I am, unscathed and free.” Steve frowned a little, feeling the urge to point out that Loki was hardly unscathed – and not really free, either. Loki shook his head. “It is not the same.”

“I don’t think it’s that different,” Steve said, “And you know this isn’t really about what you’ve done. If that really mattered, they would have come knocking on our door a long time ago, and they didn’t. I’m not letting you walk into the lion’s den alone.”

Loki’s eyes were a little shadowed as he glanced sideways at Steve. “I could make you.”

Steve felt a brief frisson of fear, but it only lasted a moment and he didn’t move his gaze from Loki. “You won’t,” he said, with certainty. “And don’t try to scare me, or make me mad. I’m going with you, and I’m going to help you find a way out of this.” He paused, and added, trying to be gentle, “that’s all Thor wants, too.”

Loki’s chin dropped. “I know.” His mouth twisted. “That may be the problem.”

“Stop that,” Steve said, reaching out to brush his fingers against Loki’s shoulder. “You don’t get to decide what we do for you. Any more than I get to decide that you can’t throw yourself to Asgard, even if maybe I’d like to.”

Loki’s eyes closed and his shoulders bowed as though under a weight. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“And if I told you I thought it was worth the chance?” Steve asked. Loki gave him a baleful look, and Steve scooted up next to him and put his arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Loki. We’re going to find a way to win this fight.” He would not believe this was inevitable. He would _never_ believe that.

“You said it yourself, Steve,” Loki said softly. “This is not a battle. It is not even truly a trial. It is politics.”

“Fine,” Steve said stubbornly. “But we can win that, too.”

Loki huffed a laugh. “Politics is not your game, Captain.”

“Maybe not,” Steve said, stubbornly. “But it’s yours, isn’t it? Or are you going to let these people beat you?”

Loki’s eyes closed. “I have nothing I can use against them.”

“You have me,” Steve said, and after a pause, added, “you have Thor. You’re not alone.” He summoned a smile. “Your very own Avengers.”

Loki let out a very quiet laugh. “Ah, Captain. Whatever did I do to deserve you?”

“You don’t have to deserve me,” Steve said, leaning in and kissing Loki’s temple, then his lips. “I want you. That’s what matters.”

* * *

Steve called Sam in Washington to let him know that he’d be missing the coffee they’d scheduled next week. He’d drop into the facility where Bucky was the next afternoon to give Bucky a full explanation, and hope that was good enough. He didn’t need to call Fury or SHIELD anymore.

Loki, meanwhile, paced back and forth, speaking little. Steve made him some tea but it sat cooling and undrunk. Steve couldn’t decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing that Loki was allowing his anxiety to be so obvious. Steve’s own brain was buzzing but in the interest of being a good role model he coaxed Loki into bed and cuddled him until Loki’s breathing slowed enough that at least he was more relaxed, if not sleeping, his back no longer rigid against Steve’s chest.

Steve drifted off almost in spite of himself a little after. When he opened his eyes, he was standing in a great stone courtyard. Behind him was a press of people, murmuring amongst themselves. Asgard, he knew, though the details were blurry. Thor was standing on his right, his eyes downcast, and in the center was a raised dais with...

Steve's stomach sank into his boots. "Thor," he whispered, "what's going on?" 

Thor shook his head, his eyes on the pair of foreboding doors into the looming stone castle.

The doors opened slowly, swinging wide. Two guards flanked a slumped figure between them, and Steve's breath caught as he recognized Loki, his hair shorn, dressed in rags and his posture screaming defeat. "No," Steve said loudly, but no one seemed to hear him. 

Loki seemed to be struggling to keep his feet, stumbling more than walking. The stone-faced guards half dragged him forward and up onto the dais, where they paused. Loki looked like a scarecrow, thin and ragged. 

"Thor," Steve said, his tongue feeling thick. "Help me stop this." 

"I cannot," Thor said, his voice heavy, and he turned away. 

The guards shoved Loki down to his knees. Steve started forward, but it felt like moving through tar. "Loki," he said, and at last Loki's head lifted. There was a trickle of blood coming from his nose, and his eyes were dull and lightless. 

They pushed his head down onto the block of wood, grooved in the middle. No one was saying a word. The guards stepped back and another man stepped forward, sword in hand. Steve was still struggling to move as he raised the blade over Loki's neck. He couldn't breathe, couldn't breathe couldn't speak and oh  _god Loki-_

The sword came flashing down.

Steve woke up gasping for air, his heart pounding and stomach churning, that awful image burned into his brain. He reached across the bed for Loki and when he wasn't there felt his lungs squeeze like the old asthma was coming back. 

"I am here, Captain."

Steve sat up and saw Loki standing against one of the windows, one of his hands pressed to the glass. He rolled out of bed and stumbled over, wrapping his arms around Loki and pulling him into a hug, pressing his face into Loki’s neck so he could feel his heartbeat. Loki felt stiff and tense at first, but after a moment he relaxed slightly.

“Steve?” he asked, sounding concerned. Steve shook his head.

“Just a nightmare,” he said. He didn’t want to say more, like voicing it might make it come true. He could feel Loki looking at him and didn’t raise his head until he felt Loki sigh, one of his hands coming up to rest lightly between Steve’s shoulder blades.

“Have you slept at all?” Steve asked. Loki hummed under his breath.

“But briefly.”

“You should try to rest more,” Steve said. Loki made a sort of coughing sound.

“My dreams are always full of demons, Captain. I have no wish to face them tonight.”

Steve was tempted to protest, but in the end he just nodded, and pulled back slowly. “Okay,” he said, and then swallowed and asked, “do you want to go out in the living room, drink some wine, and watch a movie?”

Loki was quiet for a moment, and then huffed a laugh, soft and faintly wry. “Why not? I am not going to be sleeping any more tonight. We may as well do something enjoyable. Have you a movie in mind?”

“Not in particular. Maybe _Casablanca_?” Cliché it might be, but it was still one of Steve’s favorites, and Loki had seemed to enjoy it as well.

“Why not?” Loki said with a crooked smile. Steve kissed him softly, trying to shake the awful image in his head, the flashing blade arcing down.

They settled in on the couch in the living room and Steve set up the movie. Steve cuddled up close, his arm around Loki’s shoulders. He tried to focus on the movie and not think too much about what tomorrow might bring; where they might be in twenty-four hours.

“Vali.” Loki said softly, and Steve looked at him in surprise. “If I don’t come back…”

“You’re coming back,” Steve said, and it came out harsher than he meant it to. He shook his head, hard. “I’m not going to – _you’re coming back._ ”

“Steve,” Loki said, his voice soft and a little sad. Steve felt his eyes start to sting and set his jaw.

“If it were me you wouldn’t even listen to this,” he said, right hand curling into the couch cushions. “Why do I have to? I need to know that you’re not going to give up. I’m going to fight for you, Thor’s going to fight for you, but I need to know that you’re going to, too.”

“If it means putting you in danger-”

“I’m not talking about putting anyone in danger, I’m just talking about _self-preservation!_ ” Steve turned his head and took a deep breath of the smell of Loki’s hair, trying not to think of Loki’s eyes in his dream, dull and lifeless and resigned even before the stroke fell. “I need to know you’re going to be willing to try.”

Loki’s shoulders slumped a little. “Captain…Steve. I will. I don’t want…I do not wish to die. I am merely trying to be realistic.”

“I don’t want to be realistic if it means accepting that I have to lose you,” Steve said, and then the tears were spilling over. On screen, Ilsa was confronting Rick in the deserted café, and Steve ducked his head, embarrassed. He inhaled wetly and swiped at his eyes. “Why can’t we catch a goddamned _break?_ ”

Loki let out a quiet sigh and then shifted, his fingers sliding into Steve’s hair. “I am sorry,” he said quietly. Steve shook his head.

“You don’t need to be,” he said. “They should be sorry. And they _will_ be. You’re nobody’s political casualty.”

“And you have enough determination to bring Asgard to its knees,” Loki said, raising his head and looking Steve in the eye, hands sliding to cradle his face. “Doubt comes easily to me, Captain. But I should not doubt you.”

Steve wrapped his hands in Loki’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss, hard and almost a little rough. Loki’s hands slid from his neck down to sneak under his shirt, and Steve didn’t try to hold back from there. He let cuddling turn into something sweatier and more naked, wanton and needy and a little wild.

They spent the rest of the night like that, limbs tangled together and mouths all over each other, and Steve tried not to think too hard about the desperation in it.

* * *

Steve realized as he was signing in to see Bucky that his leaving might look like an abandonment, or could set Bucky’s recovery back and make everything worse, harder, and then felt a surge of guilt for taking so long to think about it. He remembered telling Loki that he wasn’t going to make a choice, but if _Bucky_ interpreted this as a choice-

He couldn’t let Loki go to Asgard alone, though, and he didn’t think it would be a good idea on a lot of levels to bring Bucky along.

He should have remembered that Bucky wasn’t Loki.

“I’m here to tell you that I’m going to be away for a few days,” Steve said, “so I won’t be coming by like I usually do. I’m…” He hesitated, but Bucky deserved to know. “Remember what I was telling you about Loki? His people are taking him into custody.” He took a deep breath and added, honestly, “and it doesn’t look good.”

Bucky looked like he tensed, just a little, his eyes narrowing for a moment, but then it was gone. “Are you going for a jailbreak?” He asked. Steve blinked. He hadn’t expected that to be the first question.

“No,” he said, after a moment. “At least – that’s not the idea.” He hadn’t thought about the possibility, and he wondered if it came to that…

Bucky nodded. “Probably good,” he said. “I can’t believe you made it out of the last one.”

It took Steve a moment to realize that Bucky was teasing him, and teasing him about something that had happened during the war, and then he was almost giddy, unable to help a grin and a laugh. “Hey,” he said. “I _did_ pull it off.”

Bucky’s lips twitched like he was going to smile, but it faded quickly. “I’m guessing you don’t know how long you’ll be.”

Steve shook his head. “Not for sure, no.” He took a deep breath. “If you need anything – I don’t know what kind of communication I’ll have, but I’m bringing my phone, just in case. As soon as I’m back on Earth I’ll be here, and-”

“Steve,” Bucky said, and then looked awkward. “I’m not…you can go. That’s fine. I’m not your responsibility.”

 _Yes you are,_ Steve thought, but knew better than to say, and it wasn’t _really_ true. “I know that, just-”

Bucky shrugged. “I’ll be fine. And I’ve got…stuff. I don’t just sit in here all day moping when you’re not around.” He cleared his throat, shoulders lifting up toward his ears. “So go save Loki’s ass. It’s _fine._ ”

Steve looked at him, profoundly dubious, but…it sounded honest. Bucky _looked_ honest. Steve felt himself relax, slowly.

“Thank you,” he said, what he thought a moment later might have been a little too vehemently. “I…hopefully it won’t be too long.” He hesitated, then dared to ask. “When you said you had…stuff, what do you mean?”

Bucky’s ears turned just a little pink. “Oh,” he said, a little vaguely. “There’s a crafting room here. Been spending some time there.”

“Oh?” Steve thought, leaning forward a little and smiling.

“It’s just clay,” Bucky muttered, and Steve asked him what he was making with clay, and at least for a half an hour it was good to just…talk with his friend about something not serious or life and death, just pottery and sculpting.

Natasha was waiting outside when he came out, as usual (he always wondered, a little, what she did here but he was worried about asking if she visited someone) and promptly brought the real world back down around him.

“I’m going to Asgard with you, Thor, and Loki,” she said. It wasn’t a question. Steve stared at her, thoroughly taken aback.

“You’re serious,” he said, after a moment. “You’re actually – _why?_ ”

Natasha gave him a crooked smile. “Are you upset?”

Steve wasn’t sure how to ask if she was coming to help defend Loki or to make sure he was condemned. She’d been find about their relationship, supportive of Steve, even, but he had no doubt that she didn’t trust Loki and likely still nursed her own hatred over what he’d done to Clint. “No,” he said, slowly. “It’s just…unexpected.”

“You’re ostensibly going to represent the Avengers, right?” She said. “That’s your excuse – your in, if you will. Why they’ll have to listen to you at all. If it’s just you, or just you and Thor…but if there are two of us that makes a delegation. Clint doesn’t want to be involved for about sixty reasons, making Bruce go into space sounds like a terrible idea, and Tony’s likely to cause an intergalactic incident. That leaves me.”

Steve frowned at her. “So you’re…coming to help.”

“Yes,” she said, “and I’m going to try not to be insulted that you sound surprised by that.”

“It’s Loki,” Steve said. “I figured…I didn’t ask because I assumed that…”

“You do that,” Natasha said, with a slightly crooked smile. “But whatever our – or my – feelings on Loki, Steve – it’s you and Thor that I’m thinking of. And that’s another reason I’m coming. This kind of political mess isn’t _either_ of your strong points. Sure, maybe Loki has the brain for it – or it seems like he might – but I wouldn’t exactly take his legal advice. So.” She spread her hands. “Any objections?”

Steve considered. “No,” he said, after a moment. “I’d be glad to have you,” and he meant it.

They drove back to New York in relative quiet, the closer they got the more Steve’s stomach churned. He was too aware of how few hours they had left, how badly this could all go wrong. In less than six hours they would be in Asgard.

“You okay, Steve?” Natasha asked, as they pulled into the city.

“Yes,” Steve said, and when Natasha just looked at him exhaled and amended to, “sort of. Mostly. I don’t know. I’m just…worried.” He wished he could be proud of Loki owning his actions, taking consequences for them, standing up for Thor-

That he wasn’t, that he was just worried about what would happen to _Loki…_ was that wrong?

“I don’t blame you,” Natasha said, quietly. “It sounds like a shitstorm.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, looking down at his hands. Natasha hummed.

“We are Avengers, though,” she said. “Don’t we specialize in wading through those?”

Steve laughed, just a little. “We sure end up in them a lot,” he said.

“And we’re all still alive so far,” Natasha said lightly. Steve half smiled, looking at his hands, still, and thinking of the sword in his dream.

“Yeah,” he said, “so far.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The group of them – Steve, Thor, Loki, Sif, and Natasha – gathered on the roof of the Tower as Loki’s twenty-four hours drew to an end."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Week two and the second chapter! I'm delighted with the response to this fic already, and glad you folks are enjoying it. All original characters are of my own creation, although a few have names cribbed from mythology. For the most part, though, I am playing fast and loose with the mythological Aesir as my purposes require. In my defense, Marvel did it first. 
> 
> With thanks to [ameliarating](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com) for beta-ing this fic for me, and generally just being a wonderful presence in my life.

The group of them – Steve, Thor, Loki, Sif, and Natasha – gathered on the roof of the Tower as Loki’s twenty-four hours drew to an end. Tony protested (“it leaves a mark _every time_ ”) but subsided when Sif _looked_ at him. She was an intimidating woman.

As for Loki…Steve spent the last few hours in Loki’s rooms, alone with him. They looked clean in a way that made Steve’s heart thud uncomfortably, because whatever Loki said it looked like he didn’t think he was coming back. He grew quieter and quieter as time passed, withdrawing into himself. Steve sat with him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, and hoped he was giving some comfort.

“What happens,” he asked, eventually. “If you try to leave? Sif mentioned…”

“I die,” Loki said, his eyes closed. “Unpleasantly.” He let out a huff of a laugh. “It was polite of her to ask first. There are ways of invoking such a summons without asking. I wonder if she was giving me the same chance you were – but I doubt it. She would not risk Thor.”

They walked up to the roof together. Steve had managed to fit a fair amount into a duffel, and Natasha, already waiting, had a suitcase. Loki stood between Steve and Sif, with Thor on her other side and Natasha to Steve’s right. They must have looked a sight, Steve thought, Thor and Sif both in their armor and he and Natasha in their suits. Loki glanced at Thor and Sif and after a moment summoned his own armor with a flick of his wrist, though he left the helmet behind.

“It might do you good to show a little humility,” Sif said, her voice sharp, but Steve didn’t think it was necessarily meant unkindly. Loki flashed his teeth.

“I doubt dressing down would help me much, Sif my dear. Besides, it almost seems overproud to pretend to a virtue I don’t have.”

Sif sighed and looked away, expression slightly exasperated. Steve reached for Loki’s hand and gave it a squeeze, because for all the lightness in Loki’s tone he could see the tension in his body.

“Fine, then,” Sif said, after a glance at Thor. “If you are all prepared to leave…?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Steve said, and Natasha nodded. Thor said nothing, and Sif hesitated, frowning in his direction.

“Let him brood,” Loki said, his voice forcibly light. “We had best go, before Thor decides to do something stupid. Lady Sif, if you will do the honors?”

“Loki,” Sif started, but whatever she meant to say she shook her head and raised her voice instead. “Heimdall, open the Bifrost!”

For a moment, nothing happened, and Steve thought they had been ignored.

Then the Bifrost swept down around them and snatched them up.

Traveling by Bifrost was nothing like traveling Loki's way. It felt like being stretched and then yanked forward, dragged along by inexorable force, stars whirling by so fast he felt sick, and then it was over, his feet hitting the ground so hard he felt his bones shiver. 

He decided he liked traveling with Loki better. 

He straightened up quickly, though. Natasha looked a little wide-eyed and dazed, and he reached out surreptitiously to touch the back of her shoulder, hoping it would be reassuring. She glanced at him and summoned a wry smile. "Never done that before," she said, sounding a little breathless, but it was followed by a laugh, so he thought she was all right. Loki, Thor, and Sif all seemed untroubled by the journey, though Thor looked them both over worriedly. 

"I ought to have warned you," he said, looking a little shamefaced. "It is a little...startling, the first time." 

Steve glanced at Loki, but his face was set and unreadable, though his skin looked a shade paler. Sif was on his other side, and for all her hostility Steve thought he glimpsed just a little bit of concern as she looked at him.

And then he turned his head and took in his surroundings. 

It felt like all the air had left his lungs. Whatever he'd imagined, it was nothing like what he saw now. They were standing in a dome, one end of which opened up into - space. The other end led out of the dome onto a narrow bridge that seemed to shimmer. The light was - a little like dusk, with the strange muted twilight quality, but it only made everything glimmer all the more. He'd heard Loki and Thor both refer to Asgard as the golden realm, but he'd always taken it for metaphor. This, though...

He could see the city, a distance away - what must be the palace itself reaching up into the sky, all towers and arches. He'd pictured stone, heavy medieval architecture, but what he was seeing was almost impossibly light, seeming to defy gravity in the way it soared toward the sky. 

The sky of  _another world._ Steve felt a little dizzy. He was standing on another world. 

"Wow," he breathed. "It's beautiful."

"It is," said an unfamiliar voice, jarring Steve back to his immediate surroundings. Standing before them was the man who must be Heimdall the gatekeeper. From the center dais, his hands on the hilt of a sword stuck in some kind of mechanism, he towered over all of them. "Welcome, Prince Thor, Lady Sif," he said. Steve felt his gaze briefly and stood up a little taller, suddenly aware of an intense scrutiny that was a little unnerving. "And welcome to you as well, Captain Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff."

Steve worked a little moisture back into his mouth to say "thank you," and then stopped, not sure what the proper address was for this man. He was certainly imposing, but Steve felt awkward calling him "Lord Heimdall." Thor always simply said "Heimdall," as did Loki, but that was Thor. 

“You may leave their things here. Servants will bring them to your rooms while you are greeting the All-Father,” Heimdall went on. Steve blinked a little, but he supposed that made sense. Lugging bags around to greet the ruler of another realm probably wasn’t a great idea, though he wished he could offer a tip to whoever was going to have to carry them for him, or something. Natasha didn’t look terribly pleased at the idea of letting someone else handle her things, so Steve set his down first.

“Thank you, Lord Heimdall,” he said, finally settling on that as the best option he could come up with without better information. After a moment, Natasha followed suit.

He noticed belatedly that Heimdall had not acknowledged Loki's presence, and felt his impression of the man sour slightly, though he reminded himself that that was unfair. 

Thor stepped forward. "Would that the occasion of my return was a happier one," he said. Heimdall inclined his head again. 

"An escort is coming to take you to the palace," he said, eyes moving to stare straight ahead again, his gaze far away. "They will remove the prisoner to Asgard's cells to await trial.”

Steve stiffened, and he saw Thor's jaw set. They were going to be separated already? "Is that necessary?" He asked, a little note of belligerence creeping into his voice. 

"It is the command of the All-Father," Heimdall said, and perhaps Steve imagined the slight frown that seemed to cross the gatekeeper's face under his horned helmet. He glanced at Loki, trying to gauge his reaction, but Loki said nothing, his expression still blank. 

"Then can we not escort him there ourselves?" Thor asked. "It does not seem needful to trouble the guard-"

"Thor," said Loki, quietly, speaking for the first time, and Thor glanced over his shoulder. Steve just caught the minute shake of his head. For a moment, Thor looked like he would argue, and Steve was ready to join him, but Heimdall raised his voice again. 

"They already cross the bridge to this observatory, Prince Thor." There was a faint warning in his voice. "They are accompanied by Forseti."

Steve could feel Thor's frustration rolling off him in waves, but whatever that meant, he seemed to understand, and he shut his mouth. Steve turned to look at the bridge, and straining his eyes he could just see a group moving toward them. 

"I do not like this," Thor muttered.

"You cannot be surprised," Loki said, voice almost mild. "Did you think they would let me sit comfortably in the royal quarters?" 

Natasha was frowning. "Loki's right. I don't think this is a point we should argue." She glanced at Steve. "Though if you wanted to insist, we could probably argue that since he  _was_ in Midgardian custody we'd like to make sure the transfer goes well."

"No," Loki said, voice firm. "You would be impugning their honor, and starting off with an insult is not the best way to make friends. I'd advise against it." His lips twitched, slightly. "Though I must say it is gratifying to hear you admit that I am right, Agent Romanova." 

Natasha gave him a cool look, but didn't rise to it, looking at Steve instead. He pulled a face. 

"No," he said, "no, I don't think..." to Loki, he asked, "will you be safe? They won't..."

Loki shrugged. "Probably." 

"That's not really a reassuring answer," Steve said, trying to joke. Thor frowned. 

"They would not dare-"

"Thor," Loki said, his voice a little tight, "they are turning against  _you._ I would try not to presume anything about what they will or will not dare just now." Steve didn't know what the look was on his face, but when Loki glanced at him his face softened, and he added, "I will be fine, Captain."

"I've seen your definition of fine," Steve said lowly. "I'm not sure that's comforting either."

The guard was approaching, however, and they fell silent. Steve wished he could reach out and squeeze Loki's shoulder, offer some kind of comfort, but he wasn't sure he dared. As they approached, the man leading them made some sort of gesture and four of the men flanking him split off and moved for Loki. It was all Steve could do to hold still and not intercept them, and he noticed Thor's hand on Mjolnir's handle, his expression taut as two of them seized Loki's arms and pulled him forward out of the group. One of the others held heavy cuffs that he closed roughly around Loki's wrists. Steve caught a spasm of Loki's jaw, but he didn't fight. 

"Welcome home, Prince Thor," called their leader as he entered the observatory. "We were pleased to hear of your return; some very unsavory rumors had been flying about." He glanced at Steve and Natasha. "I had not heard that you were to be accompanied by others."

Sif's expression was one of profound distaste. "Lord Forseti," she said, with what sounded like profoundly grudging politeness, "These are the Midgardian heroes who fought and defeated Loki on their realm. They wished to offer their testimony at the trial." 

"I see," the newcomer said, not sounding terribly interested. He turned instead to Loki, expression shifting to one of profound disdain. "And you, snake? Have you anything to say for yourself?"

"Naught for your ears," Loki said, his voice cool. Steve felt his face pinch, wondering if diplomacy was just for them. Forseti's lips thinned, and then he stepped back, raising his hand. Another of the guards stepped forward, holding a box. 

"Just as well," he said. "The Twelve have ordered your treacherous tongue silenced." There was a gleam in his eyes that Steve did not like. 

"Is that necessary?" Steve was a little surprised at the tone of Sif's voice, sharp and disapproving. "Loki returned with Thor and myself of his own free will-"

"You know his tricks," Forseti interrupted. "Better than most, I would say. I would not expect you to object." He opened the box and pulled out the object within, and Steve stiffened as he recognized the muzzle Loki had worn after his defeat. Loki did as well, though only for a moment, and then his posture and expression returned to bored indifference, as though he were above all of this. Thor seemed unable to contain himself any longer. 

“This is absurd,” he exclaimed, voice strident. “Do the Twelve truly so fear a prisoner? Whatever foul rumors have been spread, at least _I_ am no coward.”

Forseti paused. “Are you countermanding the orders of the Court, Prince Thor?”

“Are you going to keep bickering?” Loki cut in, his voice a drawl. “If so, you may as well dispense with the trial, as I suspect I will be bored to death before we reach the palace.” His gaze was on Forseti, and as Thor’s lips pressed together Steve saw Sif reach out and take his arm.

“Very well,” she said. “Do as you must, my lord.”

Steve’s fists clenched as the man clamped the muzzle roughly over Loki’s mouth, wishing he could do _anything._ Loki’s eyes blazed briefly but then his expression shut down entirely, and it made Steve’s heart ache to see him looking so…blank. Sif’s expression was one of distaste, and when Steve looked down and away at Natasha, hers was downright cold.

“This is deliberate humiliation,” she said, quiet enough that Steve suspected it was just for him. “They’re trying to provoke Loki into responding and giving them an excuse – or else provoke Thor. This is going to be ugly.”

“Take him away,” Forseti said, when it was done, seeming almost disappointed. Loki did not turn his head or glance at Steve as the guards led him out of the observatory, chained and muzzled like an animal but with his head held high and back straight.

_Be safe,_ Steve thought desperately, and hoped that he would be able to see him soon.

“With that unpleasantness over with,” Forseti said, “if you would follow me, the All-Father wishes to greet his prodigal son – and no doubt your guests as well.” He turned in a swish of his rich fabrics, and strode out of the observatory. Thor let out his breath in a whoosh and after a moment pulled his arm free of Sif’s grip and followed without a word. Sif glanced at Steve and then walked after him.

“Be careful, Steve Rogers,” the gatekeeper said, as Steve started moving. “Asgard is changing, and the Aesir dislike change. Not all will appreciate your presence here.”

“I hope they’ll manage to adjust,” Steve said, maybe a little shortly. He took a breath through his nose. “I appreciate the warning, Heimdall. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Heimdall inclined his head, and then turned away again. Steve looked at Natasha, who shrugged, and then they both hurried after the Asgardians. The bridge rang slightly underfoot, and as they drew nearer the city only looked more impressive, but after the display in the observatory Steve thought he found its beauty tarnished, just a little.

* * *

Steve tried not to gawk too much, but he wasn’t sure he was managing very well. Even for the dire situation, all the fear and the worry, it was…awe-inspiring. It was just that every so often he half turned to look for Loki, to ask something or just to share how amazing this all was with him, and then he wasn’t there and Steve remembered how he’d been dragged off, bound and muzzled, and maybe that hadn’t seemed so bad when Steve hadn’t _known_ Loki but now...

The palace was even more stunning up close than it had been far away, and Steve half wished he could stop and take it in. Their escort – or guard, Steve wasn’t quite sure which it was – shepherded them forward, however, into a grand hallway and down to a set of double doors. Steve focused on calming himself. He’d met royalty before, but it had been a while, and this was a little different from the King of England.

Not to mention the fact that he would really like to give Odin a firm talking-to about some things.

Steve squared his shoulders as the door swung open, bracing himself. Just the same, his mouth went a little dry.

Asgard’s throne room was wide open, with impossibly high ceilings. The throne at the end of the hall was massive and looked to be made entirely out of gold, managing to be both graceful and imposing. Before it, at the top of the stairs that led up to the throne, stood a man in equally gleaming armor, holding a tall spear in one hand, a golden eyepatch covering one eye. A little lower and to the man’s right was a woman with curly hair and nearly as imposing a bearing as the man Steve took to be Odin.

Thor’s pace quickened and he strode out ahead of them, going to one knee before the stairs. “Father,” he said, voice firm – but Steve thought he caught a hint of nervousness in it. “—mother. I have returned at your summons.”

“Stop here,” Sif said lowly, and Steve halted. He wasn’t about to kneel; he hoped that wouldn’t be rude. How did foreigners usually greet the King and Queen of Asgard? He should have asked before now.

Thor’s father bent his head just a fraction in acknowledgment of Thor’s greeting, his expression grave. “Asgard is gladdened at your coming, Thor,” he said, the words as formal as his son’s had been. “You have been missed.”

“It seems I have, if what Sif tells me is to be believed,” Thor said, not quite a mutter. He rose to his feet, head still bowed. “Father-”

“You bring outsiders to Asgard,” Odin interrupted, his eyes moving past Thor, and Steve reminded himself not to stare back, though he was acutely aware of Odin’s gaze. “I do not recall giving permission for such a thing.”

“Loki was the charge of my friends,” Thor said, and Steve blinked, wondering if that was for his father’s sake or the listening guards and Forseti. “His crimes were against them as well. It did not seem inappropriate for representatives of Midgard to be present.”

“Mmm.” Odin’s gaze moved back to his son, and Steve had the feeling that both he and Natasha had been summarily dismissed. That irked him, a little, but there was hardly anything he could do about it, and there was no need to be proud. “Well then, Midgardian heroes. Come forth.”

Thor moved a little aside and Steve walked forward to be even with him. He stood up straight and saluted smartly. “Your Majesties,” he said, keeping both tone and words strictly formal. “Captain Steven Rogers. It’s an honor.” He glanced at the woman – the Queen, he thought, Thor’s mother – but she did not speak, her eyes narrowed in Odin’s direction.

The King of Asgard gave Steve a long, thoughtful look with his single eye, a little too knowing. Steve didn’t let himself waver, though, lowering the salute but staying at attention. After a moment, Odin inclined his head very slightly.

“Asgard welcomes you, Captain Steven Rogers. I hope that you will be satisfied with the justice done here.” His eye left Steve. “And you, lady?”

“Natasha Romanoff,” Natasha said, simply, inclining her head, polite but not deferential. “We’re grateful for your welcome.”

“Indeed,” Odin said, seeming a little scornful, a little dismissive. “Thor. I wish to speak with you in private. We have much to discuss.”

“Yes, we do,” Thor said, and then turned to Steve and Natasha. “My friends? Will you permit me to leave you for a short time?”

“I think we can manage,” Natasha said with a glance at Steve. “Have arrangements been made for where we’re staying?”

“You will be housed in the palace’s guest quarters,” Odin said, standing. “Sif will show you to them.” Steve thought he saw Sif frown out of the corner of his eye, but a moment later she bowed with murmured assent. Odin thumped the end of his spear on the floor. “Lord Forseti, you are dismissed.”

Steve wanted to raise his voice, to say something, ask about Loki’s trial, but Odin was already leaving. He sighed out through his nose. At least that hadn’t gone horribly, and maybe Thor would come back from his talk with more information they could use to make a real plan.

He sighed, and turned instead to Sif and Forseti. The latter gave them one last almost speculative look, and then turned and left. Steve noticed that Natasha’s eyes followed him.

“Sorry you’re getting stuck with us,” Steve offered the still faintly disgruntled looking Sif scowling after Odin – or perhaps after Thor. She shook herself when he spoke, though, turning to look at him.

“Actually,” said a mild voice, bringing his attention back to the dais and its throne, “Sif, escort Lady Romanoff wherever she may wish to go. My apologies, Natasha Romanoff – I wish to detain your Captain for a few moments more.”

Steve turned and almost jumped to find the Queen of Asgard a great deal closer than he had expected, smiling faintly at him. His first impression of intimidating power shifted a little – but only a little. Thor’s mother was grace and regality embodied; everything he would have imagined an Asgardian Queen to be. For a moment he just stared at her, and then caught up to himself and straightened. “Queen Frigga,” he said, still feeling a little wide-eyed. Natasha glanced at him, and then at Frigga, and then bowed her head just a little.

“Of course,” she said, sounding just a little taken aback. “Steve…I’ll find you in a bit?” A little worried, Steve thought, and he tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah,” he said. “We’ll talk.”

“All-Mother,” Sif began, sounding like a protest, and Frigga’s gaze moved from Steve to her.

“Sif,” she said, sounding faintly disapproving, and then added, “Is seeing to the safety of Thor’s friends and Midgard’s defenders so beneath your dignity?”

Sif flushed, very slightly, and Steve looked away, embarrassed for her. “No, my Queen,” she murmured, and then sighed and straightened up. “Lady Romanoff, if you would with me.”

Natasha hesitated a moment longer, her eyes on the Queen as well. “Our safety?” She asked, voice sharpening a little. “Are we in danger?”

“Perhaps.” Frigga’s voice was level and calm. “But I suspect you know that few places are entirely without danger. If you do not mind?”

Natasha retreated, following Sif, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Steve, who tried not to tense. He’d thought about how it might go meeting Loki and Thor’s parents, but he’d never imagined it like this. The way Frigga was looking at him was evaluative and uncomfortably discerning, like she knew more just looking at Steve than he might know about himself.

Steve wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was intimidated.

“So,” said Thor’s mother when they were alone, and if she was not looking down at him there was something about her that made Steve feel like she was at least a few inches taller than he was. “You are the man who has captured my youngest son’s heart.”

Her tone was decidedly difficult to read, and Steve swallowed, more nervous than he had been standing before Odin. The thought flashed through his head that if _she_ knew how many other people might also- “Ah – yes,” he said, after a moment, because there didn’t seem any point in denying it. “I guess I am.”

“Hmm.” She examined him, head tilted slightly to the side, and then nodded. “Well, you’re certainly handsome, at the least.”

Steve felt his face suffuse with warmth and looked down. “Hm. Thank you, ma’am. Your Highness.” Was that right? He hoped it was right. Thor’s mother laughed, a soft, low chuckle that reminded Steve surprisingly of Loki.

“Come with me, Captain Steven Rogers. I wish to speak with you.”

* * *

Steve followed the Queen of Asgard out of the throne room and through several hallways of palace, turning until he had lost all sense of direction. He blinked, startled, when they emerged from golden hallways softly lit back into the open air, the sky overhead now dark enough that stars were beginning to appear – though entirely strange stars, and Steve again felt that strange little flip in his stomach at the recognition that he was farther away from home than he’d ever been.

It took him a moment to realize that he was standing in a garden, rich and lush and well maintained. The Queen moved forward into a circular courtyard with a tree planted in the center, settling down on a stone bench. He stepped forward onto the courtyard and then stopped, standing awkwardly unsure of himself.

“Come,” the Queen said, patting the bench beside herself. “Sit.”

Steve hesitated a moment, then moved slowly over and sat down, feeling awfully wrong-footed. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he said carefully. She seemed faintly amused.

“Frigga will do,” she said. “You are not a subject of Asgard, and as good as family to hear Thor tell it.”

Steve folded his hands in his lap. “Is that how you know about…”

“Yes.” A flicker of sadness crossed the Queen’s face. “Loki has not spoken to me, so I must make do with words from Thor to hear of him.” Steve felt an uncomfortable tug in his stomach, tempted to tell her that on the rare occasions Loki spoke of his family, or his past, it was her he spoke of with the most warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he said awkwardly. Frigga shook her head.

“You need not apologize, Steven Rogers. Loki has always been stubborn – like both his brother and his father, though I doubt he would appreciate the comparison.” She shook her head, something a little rueful to her smile, her eyes on the slender tree in front of them. “I did not bring you to my garden to brood over regrets.”

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. “Can I ask why you did bring me here?”

“Thor speaks very highly of you,” Frigga said, turning to look at him. Steve straightened up under her gaze. “He says you are one of the most honorable men he has ever met, and a brave and true friend.”

Steve felt his face heat up. “Thor is too kind,” he mumbled. “I feel lucky to have _him_ as a friend and fellow Avenger. He’s hard not to like.”

Frigga laughed what sounded like fondly. “That is true – Thor has always been charismatic, quick to inspire both loyalty and love.” Her smile faded back to a more serious expression. “He also tells me you care deeply for Loki.”

Steve looked down at his hands, then made himself meet Frigga’s eyes. “I do.”

“And Loki? He feels the same?”

Steve opened his mouth, then shut it. He hesitated a moment, and then spoke carefully. “I wouldn’t want to speak for him, ma’am,” he said, trying to sound sure of himself. “Sorry.”

For a moment, Frigga’s eyebrows furrowed, but then her face smoothed again. “Hm. Fair enough.” She sat back a little. “What do you think of Asgard so far, Captain Rogers?”

He hadn’t expected that question. “It’s…magnificent, ma’am,” he said, after a moment’s pause, and when she glanced at him, eyebrows raised, remembered belatedly. “Frigga. It really is. Nothing like anything I’ve ever seen before.” He hoped that was tactful enough.

“And yet?” Frigga asked, voice quiet but firm. Steve shifted.

“I’m worried about Loki,” he tried. Something flickered through Frigga’s eyes, but it was gone too quickly for him to quite hold onto it.

“You do not think he needs to be reprimanded for his crimes?” Her voice was mild, almost neutral, but Steve was suspicious of it for that. He gave Frigga a cautious look.

“Are you testing me?” He asked. “And if you are, why? I don’t like being played around with.”

Frigga’s eyebrows jumped up, and Steve realized a moment later how he’d sounded and wanted to cringe. While he was still fumbling for an apology, however, the queen laughed and shook her head. “Not the response I was expecting, but it will do. I apologize, Captain. Let me ask you directly – why are you here?”

Steve felt himself tense. “I thought that was clear. I’m here to help Loki. _And_ Thor. Both of them.”

“You hold no grudge for what he did to your home world?” Frigga asked. Steve hesitated just a moment, then shook his head.

“Not a grudge, no. It doesn’t make it any better – what he did is still _wrong –_ but if I understand right this whole – thing isn’t even really about what Loki did, is it?”

Frigga sat back, her gaze considering, and this time Steve met it, refusing to look down. After a long moment she dipped her head, just a fraction. “No,” she agreed, and her voice had changed, a little harder, a little cooler. “It is not.”

“Dragging Loki back here – humiliating him, putting him through a trial in front of people who hate him – isn’t going to do any good,” Steve went on, startling himself a little with his own boldness. “Back home – back on, on Midgard – he’s learning. He’s changing. But this-”

“You do not need to convince me, Steven Rogers.” Frigga’s voice was quiet, but it cut through his easily. Steve took a sharp breath in. “I wished to see for myself that you were the man Thor believed you were. It seems that you are, and I am grateful, because my sons will need your help.”

Steve rubbed his forehead, feeling her words like another weight to add to the one he was already bending under. “I know,” he said, feeling just a little bit of exhaustion nibbling at him. He tried to push it away. “I’ll do anything I can.”

Frigga’s gaze softened, slightly. “Just your being here means a great deal. To Thor, I know – and I am sure to Loki as well.”

“You’re the Queen of Asgard,” Steve said. “Couldn’t you…I don’t know, do something?”

“I have done what I can.” Frigga’s lips thinned, and for a moment there was a fierce anger in her eyes, but even as Steve blinked it was gone. “At least directly. But that does not mean I cannot help you. Any assistance you need…but ask, and it will be given.”

There were a thousand things Steve needed to ask, but at the moment one sprang to the forefront of his mind. “Loki,” he said, “can I see him?”

Frigga looked him over, and then inclined her head a fraction. “I will see it done, and send you word as soon as you may go.”

Steve let out a loud exhale. Some part of him feared, even _knowing_ it was irrational, that something terrible was happening to Loki while he wasn’t there, that they might spirit him away or just kill him in a cell somewhere. “Thank you,” he said, earnestly, and then took a deep breath. “As for the rest…honestly, I don’t even know where to start. Sif – uh, Lady Sif – filled us in some on what’s been going on, but I don’t know much about criminal proceedings on Asgard.”

“Why would you? And even if you did…this case is complicated.” Frigga stood. “Walk with me, Captain.” Steve stood up hastily and fell in beside Frigga as she began strolling down one of the stone paths winding through the garden. “You understand, I’m sure, that the charges against Loki are…grave.”

“Yes,” Steve said, and then voiced something he’d been thinking about for a bit. “But those crimes…he was already tried for those, wasn’t he? And sentenced? Is there a rule on Asgard against charging someone with the same crime twice?”

Frigga breathed out through her nose. “Not typically a rule. But when you say…he was not formally tried, before. He was sentenced by the King after the Court of Twelve waived its right to hold a trial – as is usual.”

Steve felt his eyes narrow. “So Odin just sentenced him without a trial?”

Frigga frowned at him and Steve realized belatedly his lack of respect. The expression, however, was not terribly severe. “The _All-Father,_ ” Frigga said, with a tone of correction, “did so, because Loki’s crimes were already known. It is not as though there was any doubt that he was culpable for them.”

Steve opened his mouth, and then closed it. It still didn’t seem _right,_ but he supposed… “So this – Court of Twelve, they waived their right then. But they can just take that back?”

“Because the sentence was not properly carried out.” Frigga sighed. “According to old law, in cases where the All-Father’s justice is unsatisfactory or ineffective, the Court may step in.”

Steve frowned. “So this…Court. It’s supposed to be a kind of check on the king – the All-Father?”

“No,” Frigga said, not quite sharply. “It is meant to be a means of appeasing Aesir lords and preventing dissension among our people.”

Steve wasn’t sure he liked that idea, but he didn’t like anything about this. He squeezed his eyes closed. “So this…Njörd, he has permission to try Loki again, for all the things he was charged with before, and…resentence him.”

“Yes,” Frigga said. “The All-Father can offer a counter-proposal in such a situation, but Njörd is accepting little in the way of compromise.” Her lips thinned. “He seeks to divide my family against itself, Captain Rogers. To weaken the house of Odin.”

“And he’s using Loki to do it,” Steve said, heavily. “Because Loki’s an easy target and close to Thor. I get it.”

“My husband,” Frigga said, and Steve noted the change from _the All-Father,_ “seems to believe that he must either lose one son or both of them.” Steve tried not to grit his teeth, wanted to ask what kind of father could make that kind of choice, but he held it back. “I…disagree.”

“So what do we do?” Steve asked. Frigga sighed.

“That…I am still not sure. Try to show Njörd’s plan for what it is? Play his lust for power against the other nobles – turn his own game against him?” She shook her head. “We are playing a delicate game, Captain, and for Loki’s sake, I dare not err.”

Steve blew out a breath. “You don’t already have a plan?”

Frigga gave him another slightly sharp look. “Not yet, no. Until very recently, my hope was to avoid this very eventuality.” She sighed. “You, myself, Thor, and the Lady Romanoff…we should speak together, and soon, of strategy. There is…more information I need to gather, before I feel sure bringing anything forward.”

Steve felt his shoulders slump a little, but he’d known it was a lot to hope for. Nonetheless…some part of him had still thought that maybe she would know just what they needed to do to solve this problem. “All right,” he said, trying not to let his disappointment show on his face. “That would probably be best.”

Frigga hmmed quietly. “You will be expected at a feast tomorrow, I have no doubt – for which you will need clothing. I can offer to oversee the fittings; as you are honored guests, it would not be so strange.” Steve blinked a little. _Clothing?_ Frigga, however, had already brushed past that. “In that time, perhaps…I may know more by then.”

Natasha might as well, Steve thought, but he wasn’t sure if Frigga would take kindly to the idea of a spy in her palace, so he just nodded.

“Then…we may begin planning in earnest.” Frigga hesitated, and then sighed. “May I ask…a more personal question, Steven Rogers?”

“Sure,” Steve said, and then caught himself and amended, “yes, Your Majesty.”

“Loki. You say he is changing, but is he – is he well? Is he…happy?” Steve turned his head to look at her, and there was something achingly sad in her eyes that made Steve wish he could somehow…

“I think so,” Steve said, wishing he dared to reach out and offer comfort, but if this was Thor’s mother she was also a Queen and whatever she said he wasn’t sure it would be appropriate. “Things…things haven’t been easy, always, but lately they’ve been…good.” It felt pitifully inadequate as soon as he said it, but Frigga smiled, small and slight. He hesitated, then added, “can’t you go and…”

Frigga frowned. “I would, but…I do not wish our reunion to be when he has no choice but to see me. I want it to be his choice. Until then…I will wait.”

_Does he know that that’s what you’re doing?_ Steve thought, but didn’t dare to say. “I understand,” he said, awkwardly.

Frigga cocked her head at him. “Do you?” She stopped. They were back in the courtyard now, where they’d started. “This tree,” Frigga said softly, gesturing at the one growing in the center, before them. “Is still very young. I planted it after…the first time I feared that Loki was lost to me for good. And then again, such a short time ago…what did Thor tell you of the Svartalfar’s attack?”

“Not much,” Steve said, shifting a little. “That was when…”

“I believed I watched my youngest son die. Horribly and painfully, as he aided his home against its foes.” Frigga’s lips pressed together. “A mother should not have to lose her child. To lose him twice…I was angry, when Thor told me he was alive. Furious.”

“I can imagine,” Steve said awkwardly, remembering a little guiltily how long he’d kept just that information from Thor.

“But the anger faded in time…and it lifted my sorrow.” She paused, turning her eyes on Steve. “I have grieved too much for my children,” Frigga said, her voice hard. “I will not do so again.” She stood, smoothly, and Steve pushed himself up with her. “I cannot work openly, Steven Rogers, but what I can do to aid Loki I shall do.” She paused, and then stepped toward Steve and bent down. He froze, and stayed frozen as she kissed him on the forehead. “I am glad that Thor has you as a shieldbrother. And perhaps…even more glad that Loki has you as a lover. You are a good man.”

Steve ducked his head still lower. “Thank you, my lady.”

“You are welcome.” Frigga stepped back. “I fear I must go. But we will speak again soon.” She raised a hand, and a small green light bloomed over her palm and then floated over to Steve. “Follow this: it will guide you to your chambers.” She turned, beginning to glide back toward the palace, only to pause. “And, Captain…” Steve resisted the temptation to stand at attention.

“Yes?” He said, not quite cautiously. Frigga glanced over her shoulder, her expression grave.

“Be ready,” she said. “This may get…unpleasant, before it is over.”

“From what I can see,” Steve said, measuring his words carefully, “it already is.”

Frigga inclined her head, just a fraction, then turned again and was gone. Just like Loki, Steve thought, a little wryly. The green light bobbing in front of his face reminded him of him too.

The sky overhead was growing slowly darker, but the palace was still brightly lit with some softly glowing source of light Steve couldn’t quite figure out. Nonetheless, his exhaustion was catching up with him, and he was going to need to be at his best. He followed Frigga’s light back through a maze of hallways to a set of rooms bigger than some houses Steve had seen. Ignoring the rest of it, Steve made a beeline for the bed and nearly collapsed onto it, stripping wearily out of his uniform and crawling under the covers in just his underwear.

The bed felt big and empty and Steve missed Loki’s presence, even his cold feet on Steve’s calves. Five days, he thought. Five days to find a way to get Loki – _and_ Thor - out of this mess.

With that disquieting thought, Steve slipped off into sleep. He didn’t remember his dreams.

* * *

Steve woke with a start. Someone was in his room.

He sat up in a hurry, ignoring the rush of self-consciousness at being seen in just his underwear. “Who’s there?” He asked sharply, Heimdall’s warning suddenly ringing in his head. He couldn’t remember if he’d locked the doors.

“Just me,” came a familiar voice, and Steve let out a breath even as he grimaced. “Snap your fingers to turn on the lights. They won’t work for me in here, for some reason.”

“Snap my…” Steve shook his head, but he could just make out Natasha’s outline, and that wasn’t good enough, so he lifted a hand hesitantly and clicked his fingers. The soft lights he remembered from the hallways – that he _didn’t_ remember turning out – burst back on, and Steve looked from them to his fingers and frowned a little. He knew there were things like that on Earth, but he wasn’t sure how those worked either. He looked at Natasha, who was examining a strange piece of décor on the shelves across the room from him. “How many times did you turn yours off and on when you worked that out?” He asked.

“I would never play with alien technology,” she said, without an ounce of sincerity, and turned around. “Sorry to wake you up, but I wanted to make sure the Queen didn’t draw and quarter you for sleeping with her baby boy.”

Steve winced. “She didn’t,” he said blandly. Natasha smirked at him.

“So it would seem. You _are_ the boyfriend any mother would dream of.” Steve gave her a look that she ignored. He stretched, rubbing his eyes.

“What time is it?” He asked without thinking, beginning to feel a little naked even though Natasha hadn’t done so much as stare.

“No idea. I haven’t seen a clock anywhere.” Natasha flopped on his bed, pulling a face. "This place, Steve," she said, and shook her head. Steve frowned a little at her tone of voice. 

"What about it?" He asked, and then, "where have you been?" 

"Spying," Natasha said, and smirked at him. There was a chance she was joking, Steve decided, but also a chance she wasn't. "Getting the lay of the land. Starting to think Thor's friend - Sif - was being too optimistic."

Steve sat up. He didn't like the sound of that; the worse the situation was in Asgard, the worse Loki's situation might be. "What do you mean? How so?" 

Natasha rolled to her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "There's a lot of rumors flying around about Thor's absence. A fair amount of discontent, though it's still quiet - just muttering in corners, that kind of thing. I - hm." She hesitated, and then looked at Steve directly. "If people are hesitating to speak against their king or Thor, though, there's another acceptable target that was just paraded through half the city."

Steve squeezed his eyes closed. "They didn't," he said, stomach turning a little, but more than that, anger surging up his throat. "So now if Thor or Odin defends Loki-"

"There's a distinct possibility that upset would turn on them. I heard at least one person saying that Thor might be Asgard’s defender, but not its leader, particularly not – and I’m quoting – _considering how he dotes on the mortals_. I’m worried that by spending so much time with us, Thor might have alienated his own people, most of whom don’t seem to think very highly of humans to begin with." Natasha sighed. “We’ve really stepped in it, Cap.”

Steve felt his fists clench and his mouth thin. “That still doesn’t make it right for Odin to throw one of his sons to the wolves in the hope it’ll save his own power,” he said, flatly. “Or even for Thor’s sake.”

“Not as a father, no,” Natasha said. “But as the ruler of Asgard, trying to maintain stability?” Steve turned on her sharply, and she held up her hands. “I’m not saying I think it’s the only thing to do, or the right thing. But politically…I can see why it makes sense.” She tilted her head back, looking at the ceiling. “What about the Queen? Did you learn anything new from her?”

“She offered to help,” Steve said slowly, “and seemed to be saying that she was gathering information that might be useful. She mentioned playing the divide and conquer game ourselves, but she didn’t sound optimistic about that idea.” He sighed. “I don’t know.” On Earth, saving Loki had seemed a difficult task, but not impossible. Here, on Asgard, the more he heard…it began to seem herculean.

_Put some steel in your spine, Rogers,_ he thought, and looked to Natasha, who was chewing on her lower lip, apparently thinking.

“It has some possibility,” she said. “If I knew more about these people…I suppose Thor might, but his news is probably out of date, and Sif doesn’t seem politically inclined. The Queen, I guess…but it would be good to have someone else, someone closer to the ground. You haven’t seen Thor, have you?” She asked, suddenly. Steve shook his head.

“Not since he left to talk with Odin, no.” He felt a sudden, absurd flare of worry, that Odin had sent Thor away somewhere where he could not interfere, and tried to suppress it. “You haven’t either?”

“No,” Natasha said, “but I wasn’t exactly looking, either.” She hopped off his bed and started pacing, and Steve took the opportunity to pull on a pair of sweats from his travel bag.

“Loki,” Steve said, unable to keep quiet any longer as Natasha began muttering to herself under her breath. “Did you hear anything…”

“Other than that it was apparently quite the procession taking him to the cells?” Natasha said, her nose wrinkling slightly. “If you mean, anything concrete, no.” The look she gave him was sympathetic. “Steve…they’re not going to want anything to happen to him until the trial.”

“You think,” Steve said, and forced himself to remember Frigga’s promise. “The Queen is going to try to help me get in to see him. If…when I do, is there anything I should ask?”

“At the moment? No,” Natasha said. “But if I think of something…I’ll let you know.” She hesitated, and then asked, “Steve…are you worried Loki’s going to throw the trial?”

It was something Steve had been trying not to think about. He tried to remember if he’d made Loki promise to fight, and couldn’t recall if he’d gotten any such oath. He remembered Loki’s insistence that he should not come, that it was dangerous, that there was nothing to be done.

“Why would you ask that?” He said, carefully, partly because he genuinely wanted to know if Natasha had noticed something and partly because he didn’t want to answer.

“I don’t know. A feeling.” Natasha shrugged. “If I’m not wrong, he surrendered to avoid you and Thor getting mixed up in this, and here you both are. If that’s his goal, then…” She trailed off. Steve bit the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe,” he said, finally, lowly. “I hope – I _hope_ not. But…maybe.”

Natasha’s mouth twisted. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could convince him to not do that.”

“I already tried,” Steve said, wearily. “But next time I see him, I’ll try to make sure I get a promise out of him.”

Natasha’s eyebrows rose. “Would that mean anything?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, half smiling. “It would. He hasn’t broken a promise to me yet. I don’t think he makes them lightly.” He half expected Natasha to question him, but she just gave him a quizzical look and then shrugged. Apparently accepting the answer.

“Interesting fellow, your boy toy,” she said, mildly. Steve felt his face warm. “I’m beginning to think one of these days I should have a proper sit-down conversation with that one.”

Steve held in the urge to wince. “Let me know beforehand,” he said, a little pleadingly. Natasha gave him a sharp little smile.

“Sure,” she said. “I think he deserves fair warning.” Steve smiled, though it felt a little wan, and some part of his brain couldn’t help but think _if. If we all get back free and clear._ Natasha’s grin faded. “Oh, Steve,” she said, quieter. “I’m sorry. I know he matters to you.”

Steve dropped his eyes, a little self-consciously. “Yes,” he said, hearing a slight note of defensiveness in his voice that he hadn’t intended. “And I’m not here to watch him get drawn and quartered as part of someone’s political maneuvering.”

“I know.” Natasha reached out and rested her hand on his shoulder briefly before she pulled back and stood up. “Sorry for waking you up. I figured you’d want to know what I’d found out.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, and summoned a smile for her. “Keep me updated, all right? On anything you find out.”

Natasha saluted, her form…actually decent. Steve supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. “Yes, Captain Rogers,” she said, but with a crooked smile that took any sting out of what could have been mockery. “Try to go back to sleep, all right? I have a feeling the real fun and games start tomorrow.”

* * *

Steve woke up again what he guessed must be early, light in his eyes. He started a little when he got out of bed and found a bowl of steaming water and a towel at the foot of his bed, and a tray laden with food on the bedside table. Magic, he wondered, or just very quiet servants? He nibbled curiously at some of the fruit, eying the stranger looking meats a little warily, and washed his face in the hot water, which smelled faintly of some kind of flower.

He got dressed in khakis and a dress shirt that he hoped would be suitably nice. While he was buttoning his shirt, he realized that he hadn’t seen Thor since he’d gone off to talk with his father, and decided finding him was the first order of business. Stepping out into the hallway, however, after making his bed and folding the towel neatly – if there _were_ servants he didn’t want to make extra work for them – he realized that he had no idea where to go, and the palace was very large.

He heard voices further down the hall and walked in that direction, tucking his hands in his pockets. In the light of day, everything looked brighter and sharper and even more golden, and now that he was paying attention he could see the tapestries hung on the walls, intricately woven and fascinating enough that Steve made a mental note to look at them more closely when he had time. Turning a corner toward the voices, Steve found three women walking together, heads bent toward one another. They were wearing splendid gowns and Steve almost stopped, but after a moment steeled himself and quickened his pace.

“Excuse me, ladies,” he said, hoping that he wasn’t getting anything wrong and sounded suitably polite. “May I ask you a question?”

They turned as one, and the woman furthest left, her hair pale blonde and her dress a deep blue, round face turning from faint annoyance to a slow smile. “Ah – are you one of Thor’s Midgardians?”

Steve wasn’t certain how he felt about that designation, but he kept his polite face on. “I’m Steve Rogers of Midgard,” he said, carefully, “and I’m here as Thor’s guest. That’s actually what I wanted to ask-”

“I heard you were a Captain. Are you a warrior on Midgard?” Interrupted one of the other women, this one a brunette with sharp eyes and a pointed chin. She scrutinized Steve, gaze appraising in a way that made Steve want to fidget. “You’re certainly taller than I remember mortals being.”

“Oh, hush now, Hulda,” said the blonde. “Don’t be rude.” She gave him the same looking over, and Steve could feel his face warming. “Don’t mind her. I am Lady Bergljot, and personally, Steve Rogers, I am interested in more than your height.”

Steve felt a little like he was going to choke on his tongue. “Ah-” He cleared his throat and decided to try to change the subject. “I wanted to know if I could get directions to Prince Thor’s rooms.”

The third woman laughed, not quite behind her hand. “If you let Bergljot lead you she will only go one place,” she said.

“And could you blame me?” The Lady Bergljot asked, without shame, giving Steve another unmistakably appreciative look. “If I’d known Midgard had such fine looking creatures…”

Steve cleared his throat again, loudly. “I’m sorry,” he said, carefully. “But I’m afraid I’m – er, off the market.”

Bergljot pursed her lips. “Oh, please. Come with me and I’ll show you things your mortal wench never dreamed of trying-”

“Steve, my friend!” Steve had never been so happy to hear Thor’s voice as he was then. He turned around as Thor reached him and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, surprisingly heavy. “I was looking for you.” His eyes moved from Steve to the group of women, and Steve watched his expression shift subtly. “Ladies,” he said, still polite but with less familiarity. “If you will excuse me and the Captain, we have matters to discuss.”

Bergljot looked unmistakably disappointed, but she dropped a slight curtsy and didn’t object aloud. Steve let himself be steered back down the hallway in the other direction, and resolutely didn’t look back to see if they were staring.

“Thank you,” he said, fervently but under his breath. Thor shook his head a little.

“You looked a touch…flustered. I should have warned you that Aesir women will undoubtedly find you at the very least…an intriguing challenge.” Thor’s faintly amused expression faded, turning into a scowl.

“I tried to tell them I was spoken for,” Steve said, and sighed. “Maybe I should have just told them I was seeing Loki.” Even though he knew he couldn’t do that, not without throwing all his testimony into doubt and risking his very presence here for all he knew. He thought of something else, suddenly, and straightened. “I hope no one’s going to try that sort of thing with Natasha.”

Thor’s worried expression suggested he had not thought of that potential problem. “I would hope not.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, grimacing. Natasha might be able to take care of herself, but he didn’t want her to have to deal with that kind of problem. He blew out a breath. “Did you actually have something you wanted to talk about or were you just saying that to rescue me?”

Thor’s expression moved from worry to something even less cheerful. “We do need to speak.”

“I was starting to worry,” Steve said. “When I didn’t see you after Odin summoned you away, that maybe he’d thrown you in prison too, or something.”

Thor’s lips thinned. “He would not. I am, after all, his heir.” There was something bitter to Thor’s voice, but he seemed to shake himself, breathing out. “We spoke at some length, and then we argued. Afterwards, I was…overwrought. I did not wish to trouble you.”

Steve had a feeling ‘overwrought’ might be an understatement. “What did you argue about?”

Thor shook his head, glancing over his shoulder. “Not here. We are returning to my rooms, where we may have some privacy.”

Steve followed Thor the rest of the way in silence. The doors to his room were grand, dark wood engraved elaborately in a scene Steve couldn’t decipher. Thor opened the door and stepped inside, and Steve followed him.

He’d thought his own rooms enormous, but Thor’s were nearly twice that size, and lavishly decorated to the point that it was nearly tacky. Thor didn’t seem to notice Steve’s staring, though, crossing the room to drop into an armchair the color of Thor’s cape.

Steve shut the door carefully and stepped inside. Almost immediately, Thor let out an explosive breath and dropped his head into his hands.

“We argued about Loki,” he said. “As is usual now, it seems. He said that I cannot defend Loki without putting myself and by extension Asgard at risk. I accused him of sacrificing Loki to keep his own power.” Thor shook his head. “I thought once that my father was infallible. Now…”

Steve felt his stomach drop a little. “So he won’t help.”

“No,” Thor said. “I do not believe he will. He also said that…my place was here and I should not be lingering on Midgard. That I was foolish to bring you and Natasha here.” A flicker of anger crossed Thor’s face. “He does not understand, or _refuses_ to understand.” Thor’s mouth set in a thin line, and Steve reached out to grip his arm in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

“It’s okay,” he said. “We don’t need his help.” The look Thor gave him was tired and dubious.

“You do not understand the All-Father’s power.”

“Maybe not,” Steve said, meeting Thor’s eyes and trying to sound sure of himself. “But between you, me, and Natasha…and there’s something else.”

Thor cocked his head. “What is that?”

“I spoke to your mother,” Steve said, slowly. Thor seemed to perk up at once.

“You did? I meant to introduce you to her, but-” Thor made a gesture, expression going from hopeful to worried. “She was not…harsh to you, was she?”

“No!” Steve said, quickly. “No, not at all, she was – well, your mother’s certainly intimidating,” he said, with a little laugh. “But not harsh, no. She asked me about Loki and our…relationship, and she said she would help. Not openly, she said, but just the same…”

Thor brightened. “That is good news indeed,” he said. “Mother has always been skilled in diplomacy and such arts. What Loki knows, she taught him.” His expression flickered. “Would that I could speak with Loki. This sort of thing was always his skill, not mine. I have been trying to learn, but I fear I may be learning too slowly.”

“The four of us will figure this out,” Steve said, hoping he sounded reassuring, and then paused. “Frigga – the Queen,” he corrected himself. “She said she could help me get down to see Loki. Perhaps you could as well.”

Thor hesitated, and then breathed out and shook his head. “Perhaps she would be able to overrule Father’s command that I not do just that, but I do not think…I do not believe Loki would want me to see him so again. He would, I think, feel the imbalance in it, that I am once again looking at him from the outside of a cage.” Thor’s eyes dropped. “If he should ask for me, however, when you see him…”

“I’ll tell you,” Steve said at once. “It seems like…it seems like you two might be getting better.”

“It seems,” Thor said, one corner of his mouth turning up very slightly. “But I fear to assume too much, lest I lose what progress we may have made. I do not wish to go back to where we were, when Loki refused to speak with me at all.”

“I know,” Steve said, half wanting to say that Loki could have run and had chosen not to because he knew it would threaten Thor. That he thought that maybe Loki was starting to let go of pretending that he didn’t care about his brother.

A sudden rapping on the closed door caught both their attention. “Who is it?” Thor called, after glancing at Steve.

“Old friends and new,” came an unfamiliar voice. “The Warriors Three and the lovely Lady Romanoff of Midgard, remarkable in her grace and wit-”

Thor’s eyes widened and he crossed the room quickly, opening the door in a rush. Standing outside were a group of three men, Natasha to the left of the one in the front, blonde with a small pointed beard and a well-groomed mustache. Steve looked to her questioningly, and she shrugged.

“Fandral!” Thor said, face breaking into a smile again. “Hogun and Volstagg! I had wondered where you were-”

“The All-Father sent us hunting rumors,” the one just behind Natasha said quietly. His expression was grim and his black hair was pulled back. “We just returned this morn.”

The third man, larger and with bright red hair and a voluminous beard, nodded at Natasha. “And found the Lady looking for you. We had not heard that there were to be mortals visiting.”

“I was not aware that _I_ was to be in Asgard until the day before yesterday,” Thor said, stepping back. “Friends – come in. Lady Romanoff you have already met – this is Captain Steven Rogers, also of Midgard.”

“Steven Rogers! You are the one they call Captain America?” The blond man skipped forward and held out a hand, which Steve took. His grip was surprisingly strong for his boyish grin and the hair flopping toward his eyes. “Thor speaks most highly of you. I am Fandral the Gallant-”

“Fandral the Boastful,” the red-headed man interrupted. “I am Volstagg, friend Steven.”

“And I am Hogun,” said the third man. Natasha slipped into the room, leaning against the wall by the doorframe.

“The three of you and Sif were all in New Mexico, weren’t you,” she said, head cocked slightly to the side.

Thor’s friends gave him a confused look, and Thor clarified, “when I was exiled.”

“Ah, yes!” Fandral exclaimed. “We journeyed to Midgard to defend Thor against-” He broke off, giving Thor a careful look, and Steve thought he changed what he’d been meaning to say. “—during his darkest hour. Such is the heroism of the Warriors Three.”

“Were you there?” Hogun asked, eyes slightly narrowed. Natasha shook her head.

“A friend of mine was.”

Clint, Steve remembered. Clint had been in New Mexico during Thor’s first visit. Hogun looked thoughtful.

“I hope you will not consider me rude,” he said, after a moment, cutting through Fandral, who had begun to chatter again, “if I ask what the two of you are doing in Asgard.”

Steve looked to Natasha, and then to Thor. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “We are here about – Loki,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He realized that he had no idea how these friends of Thor’s would feel about their mission. Hogun did not look surprised. Volstagg frowned.

“Oh?” he said, crossing his arms. “What to do with him?”

Steve hesitated, looking to Thor again. Thor’s smile faded a little. “To ensure that the trial is conducted fairly,” he said, not quite flatly.

“You are still trying to save him,” Hogun said, his tone unreadable. Thor’s jaw set, and there was a moment of dead quiet.

“Good,” said Fandral, after a long moment, voice a little quieter. “Not that we believed otherwise, but we wondered…” He trailed off. Volstagg, Steve noticed, looked relieved. Hogun’s expression was still difficult to read.

“Even the Midgardians?” He asked. Steve resisted the urge to get defensive and point out that it wasn’t as though _Asgard_ was stepping up to defend one of its own.

“Yes,” he said, before Thor could respond. “Even the Midgardians.”

Now Hogun’s thoughtful gaze was on Steve, but he held it, and after a moment Hogun nodded, turning back to Thor. “It is good to have you back, Thor,” he said. “I am sorry for the circumstances of it.”

“All of us have tried in the past months to prevent it from coming to this,” Volstagg said, sounding apologetic. He paused a moment, glanced over his shoulder, and added, “even Sif.”

A brief expression crossed Thor’s face. “For _my_ sake,” he said, not quite muttered.

“Not only,” Hogun said, and Steve caught the surprised look Thor gave him before looking away.

“No one said anything when last I was here,” Thor said, not quite accusingly. “If I had known-”

“You were here but briefly,” Fandral said. “Scarcely a few days. And then we still thought that the All-Father would prevent it from getting worse.”

Thor straightened, expression turning toward a scowl. “Would you accuse me of shirking my duties as well?”

“No one’s accusing anything,” Volstagg said soothingly. “But Thor, you must admit…”

“Midgard needs me,” Thor said flatly.

“As does Asgard,” Hogun said. Steve cleared his throat.

“Important as this is,” he said. “I don’t think now is the time.” By the surprised looks he got from the Warriors Three, Steve wondered if they’d forgotten that he and Natasha were there. Fandral looked like he wanted to protest, but Hogun laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Volstagg shifted.

“The three of you have things to discuss, is that it?” He didn’t sound upset so much as resigned. Thor looked just a little guilty.

“My friends…your help would be welcome, but at the moment I do think I wish to speak to Steve and Natasha alone. Later, perhaps, we can speak further.”

“I hope that later we can speak further with your Midgardian companions,” Fandral said, grin coming back. “The Lady Romanoff and I were just beginning to get to know one another.” He turned, and swept an ostentatious bow in Natasha’s direction. The corners of her mouth quirked slightly, but her expression remained cool. “I take my leave of you only with regret, my lady.”

“Watch yourself,” Natasha murmured. “I know charm, Sir Fandral. It’s not always charming.”

Volstagg hesitated, but then nodded, to Thor and then to Steve and Natasha. “Thor,” he began, and then stopped, and sighed. “Be careful,” he added, quietly, and then turned, giving Fandral a nudge. Hogun lingered a moment longer, but then simply bowed his head and exited after the others without saying anything more.

Thor looked after them, something faintly forlorn in his face, but it faded quickly.

“Can they be helpful?” Natasha asked bluntly. Thor looked surprised by the question.

“Helpful – with this? I do not know. None of them have much political influence – though Volstagg knows more than he lets on.” Thor rubbed his forehead. “I might be able to answer that question better if I knew what our intended course of action was to be.”

Natasha straightened from where she’d been leaning against the wall. “We haven’t really had much of a chance to strategize. Thor, can you describe how things are going to proceed from here?”

“I am not certain,” Thor said slowly. “It has been…nearly a generation since the Court of Twelve was truly involved in a criminal trial. The library may have information, records…”

“Then it would be good to research those,” Natasha said. “But if you had to guess – is it going to make sense for us to rely on making a good _case_ for Loki, or is that not going to mean much and ultimately it’s going to be a matter of finding a way to sway this Court in our favor another way?”

Part of Steve twisted uneasily at the idea of circumventing justice like that, but he reminded himself firmly that all of this had nothing to do with justice, really, and everything to do with politics, and that was a different game. Thor frowned. “I am not certain of that either,” he said, and made a frustrated noise. “—I am sorry. I wish I were more helpful – this is new territory for me.”

“Would Frigga know more?” Steve asked. Thor nodded at once.

“Undoubtedly,” he said. “I will ask her when she can speak with us. There is – the matter of the celebratory feast this evening, as well…”

“I’d like to know before then who I should be watching,” Natasha said. Steve could see the shift in her, subtle but still there, into an air of professionalism. “Who is on this Court of Twelve and what their stances are. Your friend Sif made it sound like this Njörd character was the ringleader – are the others just following his lead or do they have points of disagreement?”

“I know only a few of them,” Thor said, sounding apologetic. “The nobility were never of much importance when I was a child, and as quickly as I learned many of their names and titles I forgot them. The ones I know…Njörd I had forgotten about. Then there is Tyr – he is a good man. We trained together at times, but…he has never had much love for Loki. Frey is another, and he has always been…more liberal, and friendly to me. Then there is Bragi, Hermod, Dellingr, Hretha – she’s one of the few women to ever be among the Twelve - and Óðr…” He looked frustrated again, and unhappy. “If I had listened better-” He fell silent, looking down. “Loki would know.”

_Loki._ Steve had been trying to keep himself focused so he didn’t think about Loki alone in a dungeon, locked up in chains, maybe still _muzzled._ He had to be wondering what was going on. The not knowing…

“When I visit him,” Steve said, trying to clamp down on his surge of worry, “I’ll ask about the other four, and what he knows about all of them. And it sounds like the Queen might know more.”

Natasha looked at him and her eyebrows pulled together. “Maybe you should go,” she said, suddenly. Steve turned to her, startled.

“Go where?”

“To Loki,” Natasha said. “It sounds like he has information we need, and besides…” She glanced at Thor as though considering, and then seemed to make up her mind. “I think you and Thor would both rest easier knowing that he’s all right.”

“I can’t just – walk in there. The Queen said she’d tell me when she’d spoken to – whoever about it.” He tried not to let disappointment touch his voice. “She didn’t say how long it would take.” He paused, and went on quickly, “and there’s this feast tonight to talk about. What’s expected of us? Are we supposed to wear – Aesir clothes?”

Natasha’s mouth quirked. “If that’s what they’re after, there’s not a lot of time for custom fitting – and based on relative height, I’m pretty sure all the dresses here would be long on me.”

“No,” Thor said, “you may wear your usual clothes. I…” He looked a little embarrassed. “I will be donning my ceremonial dress. It is…expected.”

“Oooh,” Natasha said, almost smiling. “Sounds becoming.” Thor gave her a frown, but he looked a little less grim.

“All right,” Steve said, drawing himself up and taking a deep breath. “It sounds like we have some planning to do.” If he couldn’t get down to see Loki yet, at least he could work on helping him from up here. For now, that would have to be enough.

* * *

Despite Thor’s careful and detailed instruction, Steve was almost immediately overwhelmed by the reality of an Aesir celebratory feast. The hall itself was enormous and crowded with tables and people. At the beginning of the meal he and Natasha were introduced and announced by a herald, and as they proceeded through the center of the room Steve could feel Natasha’s discomfort. Steve supposed he might actually be more used to this kind of thing than she was. He was wearing his best suit and even so he felt underdressed in the midst of all the finery.

As the royal guests, they were seated at the long table at the front of the room. Sif was there as well, but the three center chairs were unoccupied. There were others at either end, but Steve didn’t recognize any of them.

Steve and Natasha took their seats and there was a momentary lull, those already seated turning to look expectantly at the door.

“Rise for the royal family of Asgard,” called the herald, and the entire hall rose with a scraping of chairs. Steve got quickly to his feet as Odin and Frigga swept through the doors. Behind them…

When Thor had mentioned ceremonial armor Steve had pictured more or less what Thor had worn during the battle in New York, but he realized belatedly that he’d been silly to think so. His armor gleamed brighter silver than Steve had ever seen, and his rich red cape sweeping from his shoulders to the floor seemed brighter. He wore a silver winged helm and as Thor strode down the center walkway, he looked taller, _larger,_ than he did on Earth. He looked like a Prince – like a god.

Steve tried to imagine what it would look like when Loki walked with Thor like this, side by side, and wished he could see it. Of course, that led him to thinking of Loki locked away somewhere while Steve sat down for what promised to be a magnificent feast, and he felt a stab of guilt in his stomach.

The cheer that rose as Thor passed was a veritable roar of sound, but Thor did not turn or pause or wave to acknowledge what his people were offering, and Steve wondered if Thor’s thoughts ran a similar line as his own.

The hall stayed standing as the royal family mounted the steps to the table where they and their guests were seated. Frigga sat first, and then Thor. Odin remained standing, and raised his hands. A hush fell over the crowd at once, still standing and facing their king.

“We gather here,” Odin said, his voice raised and ringing in the acoustics of the hall, “to celebrate the return of our son and the heir of Asgard’s throne. As he has sworn, Prince Thor valiantly defends and protects our allied realm of Midgard.”

“Clever,” Natasha murmured. “He makes it sound like it was his idea.” Steve glanced at her and found she was watching the crowd rather than Odin.

“We also welcome to the Golden Realm two of Midgard’s heroes and warriors. Let their presence be a sign of the friendship between Asgard and its sister realms.” Odin paused, but only for a moment, then reached for his cup and raised it high. “May all enemies of Asgard ever be defeated in glorious battle,” he said, and then the hall did cheer. Steve glanced at Natasha, but she seemed absorbed in Odin’s words. Odin sat down, releasing the rest of the hall with a gesture, and the doors at the sides of the halls opened, admitting streams of servants bearing food.

Thor leaned over, some of the regality he had been wearing slipping away as he smiled a little. “I hope you are hungry, my friends.”

Steve nodded at Odin. “He didn’t mention Loki,” he said, in a low voice.

“Not really surprising, is it?” Natasha said. “Doesn’t quite fit with the tone of what he’s saying. He mentioned ‘enemies of Asgard’ – that’s vague enough that it could mean anything.”

“Excuse me, sir,” said a quiet voice to Steve’s right, and he sat back quickly. A woman dressed in plain clothes, her eyes downcast, set a heavily laden platter before him, and looking to his left Steve saw that Thor, Odin, and Frigga had received the same. He turned back to the woman who had served him to thank her, only to see that she was already gone.

Natasha was looking dubiously at her plate, which was piled with a slab of red meat, a portion of fruit similar to the one he’d been given for breakfast, a piece of dense, dark bread, and a few sprigs of what Steve supposed might be herbs or decoration. She gave Steve a sidelong look. “Are we sure all of this is fine for humans to eat?” She asked. Steve looked to Thor, who seemed a little surprised by the question.

“It should be,” he said, and then paused and added, “though I would be sparing with the _apisjot_. And the mead,” he added, as Steve picked up his glass to sniff the liquid in it, which smelled sweet. “The former is…very rich, and the latter very strong.”

Steve took a cautious sip of his glass. It didn’t taste very alcoholic, but almost immediately his chest felt warm. He put the cup down quickly and didn’t pick it up again. “Got it,” he said, and looked for utensils. There was only a knife laid out, and after a moment he picked it up and began working on carving off a piece of the unfamiliar meat, trying not to wonder too much what kind of creature it came from. Natasha seemed to be focusing on her fruit, apparently thinking that might be less of a risk. The meat, Steve found when he put a sliver into his mouth, was delicious, and had an intense, strange flavor that reminded Steve oddly of beets.

No one seemed to be talking much at first, but that changed quickly, the volume down below the royal family’s table rising to a dull roar. Steve tried to look at the people at the tables that were closest, wondering which of them might be involved in this whole mess, but it was impossible to say.

“Thor!” Someone called from one of the tables below. “Will you sing of your heroic deeds this night?”

Steve blinked, surprised, but Thor’s laugh came quickly and easily. “Nay,” he said, “nor would you wish me to – my songs drive away all but the goats. Perhaps my friend Captain Rogers will do us the honor?”

Steve almost choked on his bite of bread. “I – what? Oh, no, you don’t want me to sing.”

“I jest,” Thor assured him. “Perhaps you will have to entertain us, Veðraldi,” he went on.

“I hear tell there is a singing snake that often has your ear,” said someone else, down the table. Steve’s head whipped in that direction. “Perhaps we should bring him forth to entertain Asgard’s warriors.”

For a moment Steve wasn’t sure he’d understood that right, told himself he couldn’t be understanding that right, but then he felt Thor tense, his smile vanishing, and hot anger flared in his stomach. Natasha’s hand shot out and she squeezed his arm, hard, and Steve tried to control his face.

“That sounds a fanciful tale for you to believe, Bragi,” Thor said, and if his voice tried for lightness Steve could hear the displeasure underneath. “You are a sensible man! I would not expect you to accept such tales.”

_Bragi._ Steve remembered Thor saying that name – one of the Court of Twelve. He looked down the table and could just see a man with a slightly scraggly grey beard and a long scar down his cheek, looking ahead rather than at Thor. “You are right, no doubt - I would not expect the house of Odin to bend an ear to such creatures.”

Steve felt his jaw clench. Thor twitched like he wanted to push his chair back and stand.

“It is a good thing for us all,” Frigga said, her voice clear and sudden, “that Asgard’s skalds are numerous, skilled, and sweet voiced.”

Thor seemed to bring himself back under control, though he stabbed his knife hard enough into his piece of meat that it left a dent in the plate itself. Steve took a deep breath and made himself sit back, almost reaching for the mead and just catching himself in time. Frigga’s words seemed to have silenced that line of conversation, however, and other calls were more friendly or curious. None of them were ever directed to the Queen or Odin, Steve noticed – most to Thor, some to Sif, and eventually-

“Captain Steven Rogers! Is it true that you mastered the Tesseract itself with your will?”

Steve jerked up short, turning his head from side to side to try to see who had asked. “What?” he said blankly. “No, I-”

“Has the story of your sleep and awakening been made into song yet?”

Steve felt his face heat and his stomach clench a little. “Alas, no,” Thor answered for him, as he dropped his gaze to the plate. “Midgard makes far too few songs of the exploits of its heroes.”

“Lady Natasha Romanoff!” Someone else called. “Is it true you tricked Loki Silvertongue in a battle of wits?”

Natasha gave Thor an arched eyebrow look and then the same look to the rest of the hall, and returned to her food without answering. The question wasn’t repeated. Steve looked to Thor. “Is this normal?” He asked. “All these questions they’re asking?”

“You and I are the guests of honor,” Thor said, his voice low as well. “How will they know of our exploits if they may not ask? This is a celebratory occasion.”

“It sounded like they were jibing at you,” Steve said, deliberately not looking down the table. Thor’s expression darkened, but only briefly.

“Bragi is allowed more latitude than most by dint of his status, but that the All-Mother intervened indicated that it was inappropriate, as it was. But a feast is a celebratory occasion, not a time for funerary silence. I am their crown prince. The nobles are welcome to engage with me. Were Loki here-” Thor broke off for a moment, and then went on in a more subdued voice. “Were Loki here, you might see a round of flyting, though few test him at it anymore.”

“Flyting?” Steve asked, blankly.

“Ritual insults that are exchanged in the spirit of play,” Thor said, easily, and then sat up. “Ah, look! They are bringing the next course.”

Steve looked at his plate, still heavy with food. “Already?” He asked, more to himself than anything. Thor’s plate was, he noticed, polished clean. “How many courses are there?”

“Only four, tonight,” Thor said. “Many will be disappointed, but more than that would leave no one able to dance.”

“Dance?” Steve said, his heart sinking, but Thor was responding to another question, something about Midgardian feasts. Steve sat back, and Natasha patted his arm consolingly.

“It’s all right, Steve,” she said, smile unmistakably wry. “I’m sure these Asgardian women will be able to carry you around the dance floor wherever you need to go.”

“What about you,” Steve shot back.

“Me?” Natasha smoothed the skirt of her black dress innocently. “I don’t dance. It’s not customary for married women on Midgard.”

“You’re not married and that’s not a custom!” Steve accused. Natasha smiled at him with all her teeth.

“Are you going to tell them that?”

“No,” Steve said with a sigh, wondering if anyone would notice if he slipped away from the table. Maybe he could just ask to dance with Sif and call it good. That would be enough, wouldn’t it?

* * *

It wasn’t enough, and by the time the tables were cleared and the dancing began Steve felt too sluggish and overstuffed to move fast enough to reach Sif before he was accosted by someone else. She was lovely, certainly, wearing rich silver and deep purple, and there was a gleam in her light eyes that made Steve faintly nervous.

“May I have the pleasure?” She asked, smiling at him. Steve glanced at Natasha, but she didn’t look like she was planning to help.

“I don’t…know any of the dances,” Steve said apologetically. “I don’t think I’d be much of a partner.”

The lady waved a hand dismissively. “It matters not. The steps are simple enough, and I shall help you.” Steve had the impression her request hadn’t been that much of a request after all. He couldn’t politely refuse every dance. Maybe just a few and once they saw that he didn’t know what he was doing…

“If you honestly don’t mind, then,” Steve said. Thor had already been claimed by his mother, and Steve doubted he would be seeing him again anytime soon. He might be a novelty, but Thor was…Thor. “Just – Natasha?”

“Go have fun,” Natasha said, with a small quirk at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll be fine.” Steve really hoped that wasn’t amusement. He bowed, awkwardly, and offered his arm to the Aesir woman.

“I – ah, don’t think I caught your name.”

“Valdis Burisdottir,” she said promptly, taking Steve’s arm and adjusting it slightly – to suit Aesir custom, Steve assumed, though he couldn’t tell what he’d been doing wrong. “Lady Valdis will do. There is no need for you to introduce yourself, of course.” She swept Steve out on the floor, leading him more than he was leading her. “We of Asgard have been hearing of the exploits of Prince Thor’s mortals more than many would like.”

Steve blinked, a little taken aback. “Oh,” he said, not quite sure how to respond. Lady Valdis hummed.

“Try not to step on my feet,” she said, and began to move them through the steps of the dance, which at least were slow and – as she’d said – relatively simple. Steve tried not to stare down at his feet to make sure they were going where they were supposed to. “Will the rest of your band of Avengers be coming soon?”

“I’m not sure,” Steve hedged. He should have expected something like this, he realized, but it was hard to focus on thinking about what he was saying and trying to dance at least acceptably at the same time. “There aren’t any plans, but maybe.”

“The Lady Romanoff,” Valdis went on. “The prince called her a warrior, but she does not look like one.”

“She is,” Steve said, trying not to sound defensive, and then added, “of a sort. She doesn’t fight like – well, like Thor does.” He shut his mouth, then, deciding it probably wasn’t best to say more. Valdis didn’t seem overly interested in his answer, though.

“You, however…the prince claims that you do battle armed with a shield. A most curious custom. Is it common on Midgard?”

“No,” Steve said, relaxing a little. At least that seemed like a less dangerous subject. “Not particularly common, at least that I know of.”

“Intriguing,” Valdis said, though she sounded distracted. Her firm hand on Steve’s back steered him forward, then backward, and Steve had to look down to make sure he didn’t trip over his feet. “All this fuss about Loki,” she murmured, and his head jerked up, but she didn’t seem to be aiming anywhere in particular, looking thoughtfully over his left shoulder. “It truly is a pity. You should return for a more appropriate occasion, and bring the lot of your comrades.”

“Maybe I will,” Steve said, slowly. The mention of Loki jarred him, though, and he stumbled through the rest of the dance so badly that Valdis only gave him the curtest of farewells before leaving him on the edge of the room.

His respite didn’t last long, though. Another lady swooped in and demanded the honor of the next dance, and she was as full of questions as Valdis, though several of hers seemed more pointed. She asked about what Thor did on Midgard, what Steve thought of Asgard, how he and a group of mortals had managed to contain ‘such a dangerous prisoner!’ for as long as they had. Steve was afraid he’d stumbled on that question, answering only in vague terms. The next woman asked several probing questions about what Steve had seen of Asgard, and what he wished to see, and what he was going to do, with less grace or subtlety than determination, apparently believing she could bully the answers out of him.

Those kinds of questions were easier than the other sort of partner, though, who seemed intent on working out if they could sweep him off to their bedchamber. At least one, a Lady Yvilda, was blunt enough to ask him directly. Steve turned bright red and stammered that he was already committed to someone else and couldn’t possibly, to which she’d left, seeming oddly offended.

He had a bit of time to grab a drink of water before it was off again.

Steve danced with one striking woman wearing black and gold, a touch of green threaded through her brown hair. He did a bit of a double-take when he noticed the coloring of her clothing, as he hadn’t seen anyone else with quite that combination. She smiled at him, very faintly, and inquired politely whether he’d been to the Queen’s gardens yet.

“I – yes,” Steve said, before he realized that perhaps he shouldn’t have said that. “I mean, no – only briefly,” he tried. The small smile grew. “Did I – did I catch your name?” Steve asked awkwardly.

“No, you did not,” she said, and then the dance was over and she slipped away. Steve was half certain Loki had somehow slipped out of his imprisonment.

“I see you’ve met Sigyn,” said an unfamiliar voice, over his shoulder. Steve nearly jumped and did turn in a hurry. The woman in front of him was actually just a couple inches shorter than Steve, dressed in a blue that was almost purple. Her dark eyes were faintly amused, and her sleek black hair was (a rarity among those he’d seen tonight) loose down her back. “It seems she wished to take your measure.”

“Seems everybody does,” Steve said, not quite a mutter, and then recollected his manners. “Sorry – were you looking for a dance?”

“No,” she said, smiling faintly. “I will spare you. But I do wish to talk.” She offered a delicate hand. “I am Freya of Vanaheim, Captain Steven Rogers. I would ask if you are enjoying the evening, but you look a touch…harried.”

Steve tried to smooth his face. “It’s been…amazing,” he said, honestly. “I am overwhelmed and honored by Asgard’s generosity.”

Freya – Lady Freya, Steve supposed – laughed quietly. “A most diplomatic answer,” she murmured. “I commend you for it.”

“Thank you,” Steve said politely, but he could feel the warning prickle on the back of his neck that suggested he should be wary. Steve didn’t think he needed the reminder from his instincts to tread carefully – something about this woman reminded him of Queen Frigga, but without much of her accompanying warmth that veiled the danger.

“Dancing aside, however…I would like to borrow your time for a moment to speak a little.” Her smile was pleasant, nearly disarming, but Steve had spent a fair amount of time around Loki – and Natasha, for that matter.

“Seems to me that’s what we’re doing,” Steve said, answering with his own closed-lip smile. Freya didn’t seem insulted.

“So it does,” she said easily. “You must know you’ve taken Asgard quite by surprise with your…sudden appearance. I had heard rumors that Loki was being kept by mortals, but I admit that I did not put much stock in them.”

Steve kept his face expressionless. “We may not be Asgard, but we’re not totally helpless, either,” he said. He wasn’t sure what he thought of that way of putting it – _kept,_ like Loki was a pet or something.

“Clearly not,” Freya said with a little laugh. “As I suppose you did defeat him once…nonetheless, it is interesting.”

“What’s interesting,” Steve said, after a pause.

“I know Loki, somewhat,” Freya said, her gaze remaining soft and her posture relaxed, but there was something shrewd to her eyes. “If any can say as much, and he does not long remain anywhere unless it suits him. And while I would not wish to cast aspersions on the skill of mortals – which is no doubt great – I very much doubt you have _seid_ in your possession stronger than that of the All-Father.”

Steve felt himself tense. “What are you asking?” He said, carefully. Freya tilted her head a fraction to the side.

“What do you think I am asking, Captain Rogers?”

“I’m afraid that escapes me,” Steve said blandly.

“I doubt that,” Freya said, her smile sharpening. “You are not a fool, Captain of Midgard. Was there some reason for Loki to remain a mortal captive for so long?”

“Beats me,” Steve said, though he could feel his shoulders rise. He knew the lie had to be obvious but he didn’t have a good answer. “Maybe you should ask him.”

“Perhaps if I get the chance, I will.” Freya eyed him, her head still canted to the side as she took a sip from the glass she was holding delicately between two fingers. “You interest me, Captain. If I had not heard the word that you are apparently…spoken for, I would request that you join me in my bed this night.” Steve felt his face heat up, and kept eye contact with an effort. “But it seems you _are_ spoken for. I have to wonder who is so fortunate to hold your…heart.”

Steve swallowed, feeling an odd mixture of angry and self-conscious. “Thank you for the compliment, ma’am.”

Freya inclined her head and glanced out at the hall, her eyes scanning the dancers as though looking for someone, before she looked back at Steve. “You are here because of Loki,” she said, and now the fierceness in her eyes was more obvious. “Are you here to save him or to ensure that he dies?”

Steve said nothing, trying to keep his face blank. Freya leaned toward him.

“Consider carefully the enemies you wish to make,” she said softly. Steve held his ground.

“In which case are you an enemy?” He asked, keeping his voice as neutral as he could. Freya regarded him for several long moments, and then appeared to make up her mind.

“Not yours, I think,” she said, and stepped back, inclining her head. “Good night, Captain Rogers. Perhaps someday your travels will bring you to Vanaheim. My realm would be honored to have you.”

Steve stared after her, his mouth dry. He almost missed Doom and open combat and obvious enemies. And he missed _Loki,_ even the faintly possessive gleam in his eye that Loki got when he thought someone was flirting with Steve. Perhaps especially that.

Someone slipped their arm into his elbow and Steve turned quickly, but it was just Natasha. He expected teasing, but her expression was sympathetic. “Time to go?” She said quietly.

Steve looked at the dancing still in full swing. He caught Thor, laughing and smiling, every inch royalty. “Do you think we can?” He asked.

“I told Thor that the food wasn’t agreeing with me and I was going to slip out. He seemed to understand. If anyone asks, we had to discuss important Midgard things.” She patted his arm with her other hand. “Come on, soldier boy. You’re looking a little nauseous.”

He _felt_ a little nauseous, in truth, but Steve didn’t think it was because of the food. “Thank you,” he said, with heartfelt gratitude, and let Natasha lead him out of the hall.

“Learn anything interesting?” She asked as the noise of the party faded behind them. Steve made a face.

“Other than that half of Asgard wants to sleep with me, apparently? I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“Half of Earth wants to sleep with you,” Natasha said, sounding fond. “It certainly looked like you were having some interesting conversations.”

“Interesting, yes,” Steve said. “But I’m not sure how much I learned. A lot of people seemed to be trying to figure out what we’re doing, exactly. One of them outright asked me if I was here to defend or condemn Loki, and I’m not sure which one she was rooting for.” Steve rubbed his forehead. “Natasha…I’m not cut out for this. And if I can’t figure it out, Loki…”

“Stop that,” Natasha said firmly. “There’s no point. We’ve just gotten started, Steve, and you’re cut out for this just fine. Besides, you’re not in this alone, remember?”

“Thank God for that,” Steve said, and blinked as they stopped. “Is this-”

“Your door,” Natasha said. “Yep.”

“I’m impressed you remembered where it was,” Steve said. “I feel like I’m constantly on the verge of getting lost in here.”

Natasha tapped her temple. “Good memory.” She let go of Steve’s arm and stepped away, scanning his face. “Steve,” she said, and then shook her head like she’d been thinking about saying something and decided against it. “Sleep well. Don’t let the Asgardian bed bugs bite.”

“Thanks for rescuing me,” Steve said. Natasha turned around and waved a dismissive hand.

“Whatever,” she said. “I’m a sucker for men in distress, what can I say. Goodnight, Steve.” Steve watched her walk off down the hall, smiling a little to himself.

He changed into boxers and an undershirt and crawled into the overlarge bed, which again felt too empty. Tired and full, though, he fell asleep fast. He dreamed of Loki hanging from the Bifrost by one hand as Steve reached for him. “Help me!” He yelled, looking over his shoulder at a crowd of Asgardians standing there, watching. Loki’s fingers were starting to slip.

Then Thor was on one side and Natasha on the other, all of them reaching down, but the look in Loki’s eyes was one of tired resignation, and Steve knew, he _knew_ Loki was going to let go before they could catch him.

He woke up with a jolt to knocking on his door, light spilling through the windows. Steve stood up hurriedly, flinging back the blankets and rushing over, opening the door to see a servant in palace livery.

“A message from the queen,” he said, holding out a folded piece of paper. Steve took it, anxiety boiling up, and tore the seal on it, lingering terror from his dream whispering a thousand worst case scenarios.

The note was one line, in neat, angled script. _You may see Loki now._


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The dungeons in Asgard weren’t the dark, dank pit that Steve had feared they might be. Rather, they were bright and well lit, the cells sealed with a kind of shimmering barrier of some kind of magic. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand week three already. I don't really have anything to add in these notes, but I feel weird if I post something without any commentary, which is probably a sign of some kind of deep personal flaw. Thanks as always to my lovely beta and personal Steve Rogers, [ameliarating](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), and also to all of the reviewers here and people who send me nice messages on tumblr. Life may be rough, but hearing nice things about my writing will never get old.

The dungeons in Asgard weren’t the dark, dank pit that Steve had feared they might be. Rather, they were bright and well lit, the cells sealed with a kind of shimmering barrier of some kind of magic. Steve tried to look sure of himself as he walked down the middle of the hallway, feeling a few eyes on him, but apparently Frigga’s word was good enough because no one tried to stop him.

Loki’s cell was the third down on the left, and while it was a cell, Steve noted with approval that it was furnished, if sparsely, and that Loki was reclining on the bed apparently at ease and reading. Steve felt his shoulders slump, visions of torture he hadn’t quite managed to dismiss vanishing in a wave of relief.

“Loki,” he said, stopping in front of the barrier, and Loki turned his head. Steve’s stomach plummeted.

One of his eyes had started to blacken, and his lower lip was split and swollen. There was another bruise on his cheekbone, and Steve noticed belatedly the stiff way he was holding his body. Steve felt his fists clench. The surprise on Loki’s face was clear, and a moment later the bruises were gone, though a little too late.

“Steve,” Loki said, starting to smile, pushing himself up to a seated position.

“Loki,” Steve said again. “Did someone – did they _beat_ you?”

Loki’s eyes flickered away. “I was not expecting visitors,” he said.

Steve took that for enough of an answer and took a deep breath, then stepped through the barrier. It felt like warm water as he passed through it, and he reached out to touch Loki’s cheek where the bruise had been. “And if you had been you would’ve hidden the bruises before I got here?” he said, reproachfully. “Come on, Loki.”

The glamour faded and Steve took in the patterns carefully. Deliberate strikes, he decided. Aimed so as not to cause more than cosmetic damage. This hadn’t just been a fit of anger. “Who did this,” he demanded. Loki shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. Most likely it was orders, or a…suggestion, from someone else.” Loki’s eyes flickered with something, but it vanished before Steve could identify it. “It is nothing severe. I expected worse.”

As though that made it better, Steve thought, and exhaled through his nose. He brushed his fingers gently over Loki’s cheekbone again. “It’s not right. You’re a prisoner.”

“Yes,” Loki said, with some trace of irony. “Exactly.” He smiled, a little crookedly. “I did not expect you would be allowed to see me.”

Steve looked down at his feet. “I wasn’t going to be. I’ve been talking with the Queen – with your mother – and she…intervened.” Steve raised his eyes again, and added, a little more firmly, “and a good thing, too. If I mention this to her-”

“Don’t,” Loki said, with sudden vehemence.

“Why not?” Steve demanded, starting to frown.

“Because the reason they did this was to get a rise out of Thor, but Frigga will do just as well.” Loki’s voice was crisp, precise. “If they can make it appear that their judgment is compromised – or if they can get Thor to lash out on my behalf – that will be a victory. They can argue that I have suborned Thor, or Frigga, or perhaps the whole royal family.”

“Your mother is savvier than that,” Steve protested.

“Perhaps. But she also has a fearsome temper and I suspect still thinks I need to be protected.” Loki twitched his head to the side, and his voice softened. “Besides…I would rather not upset her. She cannot change what has already been done – nor can you. There is no point fretting about it. I can endure much worse than a few bruises.”

_I know,_ Steve thought, _but that doesn’t mean you should._ He held his tongue and sighed, reaching out to touch Loki’s split lip. “All right. I’ll…I won’t tell her. But if it happens again…”

“I shall be sure to point out that it is unjust of them,” Loki said, lightly. Steve gave him a sour look, and Loki smiled at him. “Ah, Steve. I am a known traitor. The best I can expect from the Aesir is indifference.”

The more time he spent here, the less impressed Steve was by this place. He refrained from saying so to Loki, though, and just sighed. “Maybe I should just stay here and refuse to leave. I can say I’m guarding you. That I don’t trust Aesir security.”

“That will surely make you friends. If you hope to speak on my behalf, Captain, your reputation must be unassailable. Which means you cannot criticize their ways, or impugn their honor.”

Steve felt his expression sour. “It seems like someone ought to point out a few ways they could do things differently,” he muttered. Loki seemed amused, and leaned in to kiss Steve’s lips lightly.

“Perhaps so. But Asgard is Asgard, and does not do things differently if she can help it.”

Steve sighed, feeling his mouth twist. “That’s a dangerous way of thinking,” he said, and looked for a place to sit, wishing he could pull Loki into his arms and just hold him tightly for a little while, but he wasn’t sure how much he could risk. “I’m sorry to have to talk business with you, but…”

“But it is necessary.” Loki stood up and gestured to the bed. “Sit down, by all means. I am trying not to become too sedentary.”

Steve hesitated, but took the offered bed, sitting on the very edge. Looking at Loki more closely, he could see the tension in his shoulders, a slight strain around his mouth. Loki might be trying to hide it, but this was…hard on him. “Is it…” He lowered his voice. “Is it even safe for us to talk here?”

“It is now,” Loki said, glancing at the shimmering golden barrier. “I suspect my - Frigga is responsible for that. My magic is…fairly limited at the moment.” Steve caught the trace of tension in his voice at that last bit and felt his jaw tighten. “Besides, since my arrival, the guards have largely ignored me. I think I make them uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, feeling like he needed to. “All of this-”

“Do not be,” Loki interrupted. “By all means, talk business. I could use a distraction.” He flashed a smile at Steve that was a little too bright. “What is it you need to know?”

“Do you know who is on this – Court of Twelve? And anything about them I should know?”

Loki looked amused. “Thor does not, I take it? Yes, I do know – provided that it has not changed in the last three years, at any rate.” He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “You have heard about Njörd already, of course. Then there is Bragi – a traditionalist, generally speaking, and he has…hm. Personal reasons for being less than fond of me.” Steve was tempted to ask, and decided it might be better not to. “He is loyal to Odin, or was. He is old blood of Asgard – his family claims to be descended from Buri himself, though along a distaff line.” Loki glanced at Steve, apparently saw the question on his face, and added, “Odin’s great-grandfather. I do not know if there is truth in it.”

Steve nodded, slowly, storing that away. “All right, Thor mentioned him. Who else?”

Loki hummed. “Hermod and Óðr have not done much of note. Their houses are fairly weak and their convictions even weaker. At a guess, they will follow whoever seems stronger.” Loki began to pace, striding back and forth across the small space of his cell. “Then there is Tyr – the battlemaster of Asgard. His word is well-respected and he has a reputation for canniness in war to rival Thor. He is…fair, or likes to consider himself such. He and Thor have been good friends since they were both young, but his family is…ambitious.” Loki’s mouth twisted. “I always considered them a possible threat. Thor told me I was paranoid.”

Steve refrained from commenting on that, and said instead, “so it sounds like Bragi and Tyr are two people we should maybe focus on, so far.”

“Maybe,” Loki said. “If Tyr thinks he is being courted…and he may genuinely no longer believe that Thor serves Asgard’s interests. He will not take well to an attempt at manipulation or anything he perceives as such.” Loki smirked, slightly, though it was a little ghostly. “Speaking from experience.”

Another story, Steve thought, that he wanted to ask about. “That’s four, then – five including this Njörd fellow.”

Loki nodded almost absently. “Then there is Dellingr. He likes to think of himself as rational and cautious but in truth he is easily swayed and petty. He loves gold almost as much as his daughters. Perhaps more.” Loki paused, considering, and cocked his head. “Ah – I believe one of them may be married to one of Njörd’s sons. He won’t jeopardize that alliance. Ullr and Ægir…both old warriors. Their interest is in what is best for Asgard more than their own personal gain. Ægir has a temper, however, and a nasty one. He was brought up on charges for killing a servant, oh…some years ago. I was young at the time. I know little of Ullr save that his reputation calls him hidebound and stiff-necked and one that Asgard considers so…” Loki’s lips quirked. “No more need be said.”

“So that’s-” Steve counted. “Nine. The other three?”

Loki paced over to the table and picked up the silver pitcher on it. “Wine?” He offered, and when Steve shook his head, simply poured one glass and picked it up, taking a generous sip of it. “Two women,” Loki said. “Hretha has been on the Council longer. She’s an outspoken woman, firm and unyielding. My mother respected her, I recall. I…may have played a nasty trick on her at one point. I do not know if she remembers.” Loki made a face. “She has little patience for foolishness. If you approach her, do so directly and without subterfuge. The other…Sjöfn. She’s dangerous and I would not turn my back on her if you could help it. Some former lover accused her of having bewitched him once and he lost his tongue in a bar-fight. Unrelated, it was claimed, but…” Loki shrugged, and then added, “I liked her.”

Steve had to smile. “Of course you did. But do you think she would help?”

“Perhaps,” Loki said, after a slight pause. “It is hard to say. I do not know what Njörd may have offered her, and I was never…able to tell if she was fond of me or simply found me entertaining.” Loki breathed out through his nose. “And then there is Frey. He is the youngest, and most think little of him, but he is cleverer than he seems.” Loki finished his glass of wine and returned to the table, setting it down and picking up the pitcher again. “He and I have had an…amicable relationship in the past, but who can say about now? His allegiances are looser and less reliable, and he is less bound to Asgard than the others. His mother was Vanir, and his sister spends most of her time among them rather than here.” Loki frowned. “It is not…precisely a problem, but it means he is trusted somewhat less than those of the old blood like Bragi – or even Ægir.”

Steve leaned forward, his head spinning a little, and braced his elbows on his knees. “Who do you think would help?”

“If any of them would – perhaps Tyr, Hretha, and Frey.”

“That’s only three,” Steve protested. “What about Sjöfn? Or Ullr and Ægir?”

“That would require the latter two believing my release would be best for Asgard. I suspect Thor is the only person to _truly_ believe that. As for Sjöfn…I simply suspect she does not care enough, and might find it more amusing to watch me hang – so to speak. Hanging is for thieves.” Steve frowned, feeling his stomach turn over at the unbidden image of Loki dangling at the end of a rope. Loki poured another glass and raised it in Steve’s direction with a crooked smile. “To Steve Rogers, defender of lost causes,” he said.

“You’re not a lost cause.”

“You are arguing against the majority of Asgard; I am tempted to disagree.” Loki sipped at his glass and grimaced. “Cheap wine. The final indignity, I do so swear.”

Steve reached out to pull Loki over. “Take this seriously, Loki. We’re trying to figure out what angle to take, how we can help you.”

Loki took a long pull from his glass and gave Steve a crooked smile. “There isn’t exactly legal precedent for my situation.”

“Maybe not exactly,” Steve pressed. “But something similar, maybe…Thor’s going to the library to hunt through old records, Natasha’s listening to every piece of gossip that she can catch, and your mother’s helping too. We’re going to get you out of here, Loki. You can’t give up on that.”

There was something briefly sad in Loki’s eyes. “We shall see. If all else fails-” Loki stopped, suddenly. His hand rose toward his throat, and he cleared it, a frown starting on his lips.

“Loki?” Steve said, half starting to stand.

“Oh,” Loki exhaled, and his inhale was a thin sucking noise, his eyes widening. The glass dropped from Loki’s fingers, splattering wine on the floor as his fingers wrapped around his own throat and he bent forward, quivering.

“Loki!” Steve cried out, lunging and catching Loki as he started to pitch forward. He staggered under the sudden weight and lowered them carefully to the floor, pushing Loki back to look at his face. His mouth was opening and closing, his eyes wide and panicked, and he wasn’t breathing. Steve caught the flick of his eyes toward the smashed glass and understood in a flash.

“Guards!” He yelled, fingers tightening on Loki’s shoulders. “Guards – the prince has been poisoned, call a healer-”

“What’s going on?” he heard, and turned his head just enough to yell, _“Get a healer, now!_ ” The guard took one look at Loki and took off running, Steve hoped to bring someone who could help. He could feel Loki’s back spasm as he struggled for air, lips turning blue, and no, oh _no…_

“Loki,” Steve babbled, “Loki, listen to me, keep listening to me, focus on me. Help’s coming, okay? Keep trying to breathe, keep – keep trying, you’re going to be okay-”

Already, Loki’s body was starting to shake. Steve tried frantically to think what he could do. CPR, he should be trying CPR. If he could just keep Loki going until help arrived – Asgard’s healers would be able to fix this, wouldn’t they? They’d have some kind of antidote-

( _Someone poisoned him. Oh god. Someone managed to get poison to him down here, just like someone told the guards to beat him up,_ _Loki’s not going to survive this._ )

“Move,” said a brisk voice, and Steve turned his head to snap but strong hands were already shoving him out of the way and bending over Loki, whose heels drummed on the floor, suffocating slowly while there was air all around-

“Let her work,” someone said, and Steve’s head snapped around to see the guard, hovering awkwardly. “That’s Mistress Eir – she can manage miracles.”

“Go find the Queen, mortal,” Eir ordered, without straightening. “And Prince Thor. Tell them what has happened. I need to take Prince Loki to the healing rooms, now.”

The guard next to Steve stiffened. “The prisoner is not to be moved-”

“The prisoner is my patient,” Eir snapped. “And going to die without proper care. Go, Stephen Rogers. The Queen and the Prince. _Now._ ”

“Is he-”

“ _Captain,_ ” Eir said, and Steve backed out of the cell, then turned to sprint down the hall, heart racing. He kept hearing that awful, thin sound as Loki failed to breathe in, seeing the wide-eyed panic in his eyes. _He’s going to be fine,_ Steve told himself. _Goddammit, he’s going to be fine._

He ran all the way through the halls, ignoring the stares that were cast his way, the exclamations of indignation as he pushed his way through until he reached Frigga’s room and banged frantically on the door. “A moment,” he heard from within, and then the sound of footsteps. His head was spinning and his chest felt tight as it hadn’t since before the serum. _How long had it been? Was Loki already-_

The door opened. Frigga’s face registered very slight surprise. “Captain Rogers,” she said, politely, and Steve burst out, interrupting her.

“Loki’s been poisoned,” he said, struggling for air. “Eir – Eir sent me, he wasn’t breathing, he wasn’t-”

Steve doubled over, wheezing, and he hadn’t had any of the wine, why couldn’t _he_ breathe?

“Captain!” Frigga’s voice was sharp, and alarmed, and one of her hands landed on his shoulder. His lungs expanded almost painfully and he hauled in a deep, gasping breath, staring at the Queen’s face. She searched his, then glanced over her shoulder and said, “go. We shall continue this conversation later. And send Thor to me.”

Steve felt himself forcefully guided to a futon. “Sit there,” Frigga said, her voice hard and tense. “What happened?”

“The wine,” Steve pushed out. “There was…he was drinking it and then he just stopped – stopped breathing. Oh god.” He bent over, putting his head between his knees to try to quell the dizziness. “I need to – I should be with him-”

“When Thor arrives, we shall all go.” There was cold anger in Frigga’s voice. “Did you drink any of it?”

Steve shook his head, mutely. He couldn’t stop hearing that awful sound of Loki struggling to breathe. “None – no. I-”

The door burst open. “Mother?” Thor’s voice was almost panicked. “What is – _Steve?_ ”

“Someone tried to have your brother poisoned,” Frigga said. “Thank the Norns Steve Rogers was with him. Come, both of you, take my hands.”

Steve reached out and took her offered hand, stomach churning. Thor stood frozen for a moment, and then strode forward. “Where,” he started to demand. “What-”

Frigga grabbed his hand and Steve’s stomach turned inside out as she teleported them together. He remembered the sensation from when Loki had done it before, but this time almost fell over when Frigga released him.

“My Queen!” He heard, an alarmed exclamation, and Frigga’s iron voice commanding, “out. All of you but Eir. I am sealing this room.”

Steve pushed himself up. A small group of women was being roughly herded out the door. Frigga’s hands were raised, surrounded by green light. Thor was kneeling by a stone pallet, Loki stretched out on his back. Eir was standing above him, both her hands pressed to his chest.

Steve stumbled toward them. ‘”Is he-?”

“Still alive,” Eir said tightly. “I am keeping his heart and lungs working through force of magic. Do not distract me.”

Steve felt the blood drain from his face. Thor’s eyes were wide and fixed on Loki’s face. “What coward would do this,” he said, voice shaking – with anger or fear, Steve wasn’t sure. “To attack an unarmed prisoner – with _poison-_ “

Steve felt a wave of magic wash over his skin, strange and tingling, and then it was gone. “The room is sealed,” Frigga said, and Steve wondered suddenly if Thor’s temper came more from his father or his mother. “No one not currently here may pass through this barrier.”

“Natasha,” Steve said weakly, suddenly realizing that he’d forgotten to call for her. Frigga gave him a hard look, and then nodded.

“Very well.”

“Is that truly necessary?” Eir’s voice revealed strain.

“Yes,” Frigga said without hesitation. “It is. Eir, report.”

Loki’s chest rose and fell so shallowly Steve could scarcely see it. The healer bowed her head. “The poison is a mixture of Hela’s Shade and others I cannot identify. Fast acting. There is no herbal antidote that I know.” She paused. “I can keep him breathing for now, but not…forever. The airways are swelling shut faster than I can heal.”

“No,” Thor said, his voice raw. Steve couldn’t find any words at all.

He caught Frigga’s nod out of the corner of his eye. “Then we purge it out of him.” She stepped forward. “Thor, move. Hold your brother’s shoulders. Captain, take his legs.”

Eir’s expression was tight when she raised her eyes. “My Queen, I would not question, but…it may be that given more time a cure could be found.”

“How much time? Who is to say how much time Loki has? Between a certainty of losing one of my sons and a risk of losing him, I will choose the risk,” Frigga said, her voice sharp. Steve stopped.

“A risk?” He asked, the words a little strangled.

“There is always a risk,” Frigga said coldly, but when she turned her head Steve glimpsed just briefly the fear in her eyes.

“What are you doing?” Thor asked, looking back and forth between Eir and Frigga. Frigga stepped forward, rolling up her sleeves.

“Burning the poison out of his body,” Frigga said. “Thor, Steve, do as I say. It is vital that you hold Loki still.”

Steve swallowed hard and moved, wrapping his hands around Loki’s ankles. His skin felt cold and he didn’t so much as twitch. His eyes met Thor’s, standing by Loki’s head, and Steve wondered if the terror and worry he could read on Thor’s face was a mirror of his own. He could hear Loki struggling to draw breath again, a sickening rattling noise, and thought that sound would haunt his dreams for years.

“Now,” said Frigga, quietly, placing her hands on Loki’s chest.

Loki’s whole body snapped taut and started to shake. His mouth and eyes opened wide but not a sound came out, and suddenly it was all Steve could do to hold his legs still, to keep Loki from kicking him in the face in his sudden, violent struggle to get away in complete and eerie silence. His arms flailed, fingers clawing for purchase, and Steve could see the panic on his face briefly before it was swallowed by pain.

The skin under Steve’s fingers flashed hot, almost hot enough to burn his fingers. Loki’s whole body strained, arching off the stone bed. One of his legs yanked free and he kicked Steve in the face so hard that Steve felt his nose crack. He convulsed as if in the midst of a seizure and Steve realized that his chest wasn’t moving at all, wasn’t heaving for air.

“Frigga!” He shouted in alarm, spitting blood out when it ran into his mouth as he tried doggedly to hold on, and then it was over. Loki shuddered one last time and went limp. Unmoving, still, and silent.

Bad as the rasping had been, Steve suddenly thought this was worse. His stomach was churning and there was buzzing in his ears. His nose throbbed violently. Frigga fell back, her eyes fixed on Loki’s face, now still and slack.

In the silence, Loki’s first shuddering inhale was deafeningly loud. Steve heard himself make a sound like a sob and nearly fell over, relief making his knees weak. Thor let out his own harsh exhale, and Frigga closed her eyes and bowed her head.

“Thank the Norns,” she whispered. “I knew you were strong enough, my boy.”

Loki looked sickeningly pale, his hair stringy with sweat and his expression slack, but he was breathing, slow and clear and, as Eir pulled her hands away, on his own.

Frigga drew herself up, straightening. “Eir,” she said, “see to the Captain’s nose, please? And then go find the Lady Romanoff and tell her to come to us. Thor, our guests, and I will be having our meals in this chamber tonight. We have much to discuss.”

* * *

Steve stayed close by Loki’s bed, watching every breath with his heart still pounding. Thor hovered over his shoulder, seeming uncertain of what to do. Eir returned with Natasha in tow a short time later and withdrew with Frigga to a corner, where the two of them spoke in low voices. Natasha looked from Steve to Thor to Loki, her expression grim.

“Poison?” She said. Steve just nodded, and she examined Loki for a moment. “Lucky bastard,” she murmured, and Steve must have frowned, because she added, “if this had happened a day ago, when no one was there?”

Steve’s blood ran a little cold, and when he glanced at Thor he looked like he wanted to be sick.

“Lady Romanoff,” said Frigga, returning from where she’d withdrawn. Eir appeared to have left. “I have been meaning to speak with you personally. It seems circumstance has forced that occasion.”

“If you’re wondering if I mean your youngest any harm,” Natasha said bluntly, “the answer’s no. At least not as things stand.” Steve felt himself tense, but Frigga simply nodded, not looking insulted. “I have to ask, though – is this-” she gestured at Loki’s prone body, “really unexpected?”

Frigga and Thor both frowned, and it was Thor who answered. “It should have been. The Aesir do not – work with poison, and to attack a defenseless prisoner…”

“No,” Frigga interrupted, “that is not quite true, Thor. It is so that the Aesir outwardly scorn poison, but its use is not unknown, though rare. It is more common when it comes to political matters. Once upon a time it was the preferred means of execution for imprisoned aristocracy.” Her expression turned grim. “I had put protections in place that I believed were secure. It seems it was not sufficient.”

“What kind of protections?” Natasha asked. Frigga’s eyes narrowed, and Natasha added, “Your Highness – I’m thinking about the risk of this happening again. Don’t you want to know who arranged this?”

“There is no way of being certain who gave the order.” Frigga closed her eyes. “I can perhaps find the servant who carried the wine, but whether they knew or not, I doubt theirs was the hand responsible. I had thought…but it seems I was mistaken.” The queen breathed out a sigh. “Who it was does not matter. If Loki stays here, he will be safe.”

“Did you believe that about the cells?” Natasha asked, and if her voice was mild the question was so very…not that Steve almost cringed. The Queen’s sharp eyes cut to her, and Thor spoke up quickly.

“Mother, I…do not wish to question you, but I did believe Loki would be safe at least until the trial, and yet…”

“This room is barred by magic to any other than you, Steven Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Eir herself,” Frigga said, her voice touched with a tart edge. “Unless one of you intends to poison Loki…I am still the most powerful mage in this realm, save perhaps your father.”

_And what if he’s the one trying to get rid of Loki quietly,_ Steve thought, but didn’t quite dare say. By the look on Natasha’s face, though, she was thinking it too. Thor just looked worried and unhappy, his eyes dropping back to Loki’s face.

“I want to know who did this,” he said. “I _need_ to know, that I may punish them. _Personally,_ if I must, since Loki cannot challenge them himself.”

Steve remembered what Loki had said about his bruises, but Natasha spoke first. “You can’t,” she said lowly. Steve looked at her in surprise. “At least…that’d be my guess. Unless you want to look compromised – and that’s what you’ll look.”

“Am I not allowed to take the part of my brother?” Thor said, bristling visibly.

“Not by accusing people of poisoning him and beating them to a pulp,” Natasha said. “Your enemies will say he’s controlling you. Maybe even that this was a trick to garner sympathy.” Frigga, Steve noticed, was watching Natasha with interest. “If you want to have a chance to get Loki out of this trial in one piece, you’re going to have to let this go.”

“Let this go!” Thor’s voice rose. “Someone tried to _kill_ him! They very nearly succeeded!”

“Right now,” Natasha retorted, “most of your planet – realm, whatever – is trying to kill Loki. This was just a little more direct.”

“You do not understand nor care,” Thor said, drawing himself up. “You have never borne Loki any fondness-”

“Thor,” Steve said quietly. “She’s right.” He realized that at some point he’d reached out and taken Loki’s hand, holding it gently in his lap. “Right now…right now I think all we can do is focus on the trial.”

Thor’s expression flashed rapidly between anger and sadness and finally to resignation. His shoulders slumped. “I know,” he said, heavily. “I know it, but I do not…it does not seem just.” He paused, and seemed to slump further. “I am sorry,” he said to Natasha.

Natasha shrugged. “Apology accepted,” she said easily, but Steve saw her shoulders slide down, visibly relaxing. Thor sighed heavily, and Frigga reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, just for a moment.

“When you say that you will focus on the trial,” she said slowly, “what tack do you intend to take?”

“The way I see it,” Natasha said, “what we need to do is take some of the teeth out of the charges, propose an alternate punishment, and work out how to persuade this Council of Twelve to vote against Njörd.”

“That’s all, then,” Steve said, with a wan smile. He looked to Frigga. “How likely is it, do you think, that any of the council members would take Loki’s part? He seemed to…he seemed to think it was fairly unlikely.”

Frigga frowned. “Loki has always tended to be…somewhat pessimistic about others, particularly when it comes to expecting them to do something for him. I am less so. I think it is possible that a fair few would not be difficult to persuade. Hretha I know will give the evidence a fair hearing, and cares little for Njörd. If Thor spoke to Tyr…”

“I will,” Thor said at once, staunchly.

“Ultimately, however,” Frigga went on, “I think it best we focus, for the moment, on attempting to mitigate the charges as they stand.”

“I think I can help with that.” Natasha glanced at Loki, briefly. “I talked to Clint – Clint Barton or Hawkeye, Your Majesty, one of the Avengers – before we left, and he mentioned that there was some evidence that when Loki attacked Earth it was under duress from an outside party.” She made a face. “It’s not clear who that outside party would be, though.”

Steve glanced at Loki, eyes narrowing. “He’s never said anything about that to me.”

Thor looked uncertain. “When I asked him as much, he denied it – but that may have been pride. Without a name, though, how can we speak of this unknown force and not sound as though we are simply making excuses?”

“There’s the scepter,” Natasha said. “That’s clearly not Aesir in origin. But you’re right, most of what we have on that front is circumstantial, and all we’d really have for corroboration would be Loki’s word, which isn’t going to carry much weight.”

“There is the fact that at least some of the actions he is accused of occurred during his reign,” Thor said. “The attack on Jotunheim occurred while we were at war with them, after they had attacked.” He looked as though there was a sour taste in his mouth. “Even if they only attacked at Loki’s urging.” Steve tried to remember if he’d heard the full story there, and wasn’t sure that he had. He made a mental note to ask Thor later. Judging by the way Natasha was glancing back and forth between Thor and the Queen, she’d had the same thought.

“Nonetheless,” Frigga said, her tone unyielding. “It is true that the throne was his by right, and however morally reprehensible the attack on Jotunheim may have been, it was not necessarily illegal.” Her eyes, Steve realized, were on his hand holding Loki’s, and he resisted the urge to let go self-consciously.

“That still leaves what he did on Earth,” Steve said. “And the other things Sif mentioned…attempted fratricide and regicide, treason…”

“I still live,” Thor said staunchly, “and I have never brought any accusation against Loki. Nor has our father, and I – he will not now, will he?” Thor asked Frigga, sounding suddenly uncertain.

“No,” Frigga said, in a way that made Steve suspect if Odin might not know that was the case yet, but certainly would soon. “He will not. Moreover, there is no evidence that Loki ever intended the All-Father harm. Treason, however…” Frigga sighed out. “That is the real trouble. That he attacked Midgard, a realm Asgard is sworn to protect, is bad enough, but he did so in Asgard’s name and as a member of the royal family.”

Natasha looked thoughtful. “On Asgard, does the victim of a crime have the right to claim how it should be answered?”

Frigga glanced at her. “In some cases, yes, though this…”

“Can we argue that Loki’s worst injury was done to Earth and it should be up to us to decide how his punishment gets dealt with?” Natasha glanced from Steve to Thor and back to Frigga. “I recognize that Asgard seems to view us as kind of a protectorate, but we are an independent – realm, however you want to put it. Can we claim that, as an ally of Asgard and chiefest victim of Loki’s actions, we deserve the right to handle his punishment?”

Frigga frowned. “I cannot think of precedent for such a motion, but…possibly.”

“I can look,” Thor said, sounding almost eager. “Surely there are other Aesir who have committed crimes in other realms, and Natasha is right – it would not be honorable to rob our allies of their justice.” His eyes brightened with sudden hope. “Would it be enough?”

“Perhaps,” Frigga said, but she sounded doubtful. “It is at least, I suppose, a start.”

“We need to start considering what kind of arguments are going to come up,” Natasha said. “So we can work on countering them. It’d help to know exactly how this kind of trial is structured.”

Frigga inclined her head. “I agree.” She glanced at Steve, and then Thor, and seemed to come to a decision. “If you would come with me, Lady Romanoff, we can continue this conversation elsewhere? A sickroom is a poor place to discuss politics.”

Natasha glanced at Steve, but only briefly, before she nodded. “That works for me. Thor, Steve…I’ll catch up to you later.” Frigga offered an arm, which Natasha eyed for a moment before she took, and the two of them slipped out. Steve looked at Thor, who fidgeted.

“I should go to the library,” Thor said. “It will…undoubtedly take me a while to find anything useful.” He kept shooting little glances in Loki’s direction, though.

“You don’t have to leave,” Steve said, giving him a small smile. “I’d like the company, actually.” He still felt sick and anxious, still too close to the scene in the cell and Loki gasping for air. Thor looked relieved.

“You do not mind?”

“Not at all.”

Thor sat down with a heavy sigh across the bed, his eyes back on Loki, expression lost. He made half a motion with one hand as though to reach out and touch his brother, only to stop partway through. Steve felt a pang. “I have imagined getting to bring you and Loki both to Asgard,” he said after a long moment. “But in my imaginings, it was never like this.”

“I think I’d rather it was more like your imaginings,” Steve said, feebly attempting to joke. Thor’s smile was just as weak.

“I thought…somewhere, I believed that this was all temporary. That eventually Loki would be able to come home and be welcomed back. Now I feel as though – I have been as naïve as Loki always accused me of being. And it is…once again, he is in danger because of me.”

Steve straightened. “That’s not true. This situation isn’t your fault.”

“Do you think I do not realize they are only interested in Loki because he is a means to an end?” Thor’s eyes lifted from Loki, and Steve’s heart clenched at the pain in his eyes. “And that end is my destruction, or my father’s. He is here – he is _here,_ ” Thor gestured at the bed, “narrowly pulled back from death – _yet again –_ because my own people seek to strike at me through him.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Steve tried to protest. “And it’s not just about you. They’re making a grab for power-”

“And using Loki to do it,” Thor finished, voice rising a fraction. His shoulders slumped. “I am sorry. I know you are trying to comfort me, my friend. It is only…a harsh awakening, I suppose.” Thor’s eyes fell back to Loki’s face, and this time he did reach out, lifting a strand of black hair that was stuck to his forehead and tucking it back, fingers lingering for a moment over the bruises on Loki’s face, no longer hidden by his magic. Steve let go of Loki’s hand to reach across and catch Thor’s arm to give it a squeeze.

“Nothing about any of this is your fault,” he said, fervently. Thor gave him a wan smile that looked alarmingly tired.

“Not my _fault,_ perhaps,” Thor said, “but I cannot help but feel…I do not know.” He shook his head. “And besides…it is selfish, but I fear this will – undo the progress I feel I have made with Loki, however slight it was.”

“I don’t think it will,” Steve said, glancing at Loki’s face, which was still and pale, his lips parted. Unguarded like this, he looked exhausted.

“I hope not.” Thor sighed out loudly. Sitting like this, the two of them with Loki lying between them, reminded Steve of the days after they’d gotten Loki back from Latveria, when he’d been burning with fever and delirious with pain. Steve realized he was squeezing Loki’s hand and made his fingers loosen.

“At least he’s all right,” Steve said, half to himself. “And it sounds like whatever your mother did should keep him safe until the trial.”

Thor nodded, lifting his head. “All right thanks to you,” he said. “How many times over do I owe you my brother’s life, Steven?”

“None,” Steve said firmly. “Neither of you owes me anything. You’re my friend, Thor, and he’s my…” He still wasn’t sure what the best word was. _Boyfriend_ sounded flippant and _lover_ felt strange. Loki was just…Loki. “I love him,” Steve settled on, and Thor’s expression went soft and fond.

“You are my shieldbrother, Steve,” he said, “and more than that, I consider you as good as family. And I am – grateful, and glad, that Loki chose you, and that you have chosen Loki.” He stood up and came around the bed, and Steve stood up just in time to be enveloped in one of Thor’s warm, full-body hugs. “You give me heart, even if…even if I am afraid.”

_I do?_ Steve thought, a little incredulously, but he patted Thor on the back and tried to smile. “I’m glad I can do that.”

Thor released him with a heavy pat on his shoulder and stepped back, leaving his hand there for a moment. “I shall go,” he said, smile still tentative but a little stronger. “The library awaits for me to conquer it. Loki-” Thor hitched for only a moment before going on. “—were he awake, Loki would mock me for hesitating.”

“Is there something I should do?” Steve asked, feeling suddenly as though he’d been slacking. Thor shook his head.

“Stay here,” he said, “and watch my brother. When he wakes, it should be with you there.” Thor gave his shoulder one last squeeze, and then turned and strode out, the set of his shoulders resolute. Steve sat back down and looked at Loki, still breathing slow and evenly.

“You have a remarkable brother,” he said quietly. “You really do. And he loves you very much.” Loki didn’t answer, of course. Steve leaned forward and kissed his forehead lightly. “I think you know that,” Steve went on. “I just hope eventually you let yourself believe it again someday.”

* * *

 Steve dozed off without meaning to, though he woke up promptly at a low groan. Ignoring the protests of his neck and back, he leaned forward, giving Loki’s hand a squeeze as he stirred, eyelids fluttering and finally opening. Loki stared at him for a long moment, seeming confused.

“Hey,” Steve said gently. “Welcome back.” His smile felt a little tremulous.

“Steve?” Loki said, his voice rough and hoarse, and then he coughed. Steve looked for a glass of water and found a pitcher on a small table that he was fairly sure hadn’t been there before. He wondered if Eir had come in while he’d been sleeping, and he was surprised he hadn’t woken. Steve poured a glass and held it out, and Loki took it, pushing himself up onto one elbow and gulping most of it down before dropping back wearily, eyes closing.

“Should I call someone?” Steve asked, but Loki shook his head and a moment later opened his eyes again, though he didn’t sit up. Steve took the glass back and set it down. “What do you remember?”

“Suffocating,” Loki said, the edge of his voice still rough, and Steve felt a chill. Loki seemed to shake himself, though. “Eir came. After that…little, clearly.”

“The healer and y- Frigga healed you,” Steve said. “The room you’re in now is warded so no one other than the Queen, me, Eir, Thor, and Natasha can come in.” Loki nodded, fractionally, and Steve watched his face, trying to divine what he was thinking.

“It’s a good thing you had none of the wine,” Loki said, after a moment. He took a deep, slow breath and let it out in a long exhale. “Thank you. It appears you have saved my sorry skin once again.”

“I’m not keeping track,” Steve said quickly, giving Loki’s hand another squeeze. Loki’s head turned to look at their joined hands, brows furrowing, but a moment later his fingers curled to return the grasp, even if his eyes moved back to the ceiling. “Are you…well. All right seems a strange way to put it.”

“It is not the first time someone has attempted to poison me,” Loki said, lips turning up at the corners for a moment. “Merely the most recent. I will be fine, Captain.” _I didn’t ask if you_ will _be,_ Steve thought, but didn’t say. After a moment Loki let out a sigh. “I am sorry.”

Steve started. “For what?”

Loki made a vague, loose gesture with one hand. “A great deal of things, I imagine. But at the moment, primarily that I frightened you, as it seems I did. You have that pinched look about your mouth that you get when I upset you.” Loki sounded more weary and rueful than actually troubled, but Steve still frowned.

“You didn’t upset me,” Steve said. “ _You_ don’t have to apologize for being poisoned. Whoever did the poisoning – that’s who I’m upset with.”

“Hmm.” Loki sounded dubious, but he let it go, to Steve’s relief, and a moment later his lips curved up. “It is a pity this bed is so narrow.”

Steve blinked at the change in subject. “What?”

“I am already tired of sleeping alone. And it is traditional to celebrate brushes with death by – well, despoiling a virgin is usually how the tales go, but I suppose you’re probably close enough-”

Steve was sure his face must be beet red. “Loki!” He said, glancing over his shoulder like someone might hear.

“I may be tired,” Loki said lightly, “but I wouldn’t object to you crawling in next to me. And I think I could still manage some wicked things with my hands…”

“You’re terrible,” Steve said, though he could feel himself starting to smile. Loki grinned at him, almost looking like his usual self, and Steve felt some tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding slip a little away.

Then someone knocked briskly on the door.

Loki tensed, eyes flicking toward it and smile vanishing, and so did Steve, the thought flashing through his mind that even with Frigga’s barrier someone might be able to throw a knife or shoot an arrow. “Who is it,” he called.

“Me,” said a voice that Steve didn’t recognize, and apparently realizing as much, it clarified, “Sif.”

Steve glanced at Loki, who had relaxed. “Go ahead,” he said, dropping his head back and closing his eyes. “Sif might kill me someday, but she would hardly do so while I am unarmed. It wouldn’t be sporting.”

Steve grimaced, but shook himself. It wasn’t her fault she’d been the bearer of bad news. He stood up and walked over to the door, cracking his neck before opening it.

“Captain Rogers,” Sif said, bowing her head very slightly. She paused, for a moment, shifted, and then asked, “how is he?”

“He is fine,” Loki answered, before Steve could. “And he hopes that you are not too disappointed by that development.”

Sif looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, but Steve thought she looked faintly relieved, too. “And awake, it seems,” she said dryly, but then her voice softened. “I’d congratulate you on your speedy recovery, but we all know you’re a stubborn bastard.”

“To the sorrow of many,” Loki said airily. Steve turned to frown at him, but Sif beat him to it.

“But the relief of no few,” she said, and if her voice was tart it was still…very nearly an admission of caring. From what Steve had seen of their relationship thus far, and the fact that Loki was actually silent for a moment, he thought it must mean something.

“Is that a statement of affection, my Lady Sif?” Loki said, after a moment, still light, but Steve heard the near precariousness that meant something had cut close to a vulnerability Loki didn’t want to show. He opened his mouth, but it seemed Sif heard it too, for she snorted.

“Don’t push it, Silvertongue,” she said. “I wasn’t just here to check on you.” Sif turned to Steve. “I’ve been…sent to fetch you. It seems the All-Father wishes to speak with you.” Her nose wrinkled slightly when she said ‘sent.’ Steve wanted to have the same reaction at the idea of being fetched.

“Why?” Steve asked, not a little warily. Sif shrugged.

“He didn’t say.”

Steve turned to look over his shoulder at Loki, whose eyes were closed and turned toward the ceiling, but Steve could see the furrow in his brows. “You can’t refuse a summons,” he said, after a moment. “If that’s what you’re considering.”

“Is that what this is?” Steve asked Sif. She looked past Steve at Loki and shook her head.

“Not precisely. But Loki is probably right. It would be rude to refuse.”

“And heaven forbid I be rude to the All-Father,” Steve said, mostly under his breath. Sif looked at him sharply, and he heard Loki make a sort of coughing laugh, so maybe he didn’t say it as quietly as he meant. He cleared his throat. “All right, I guess. You’ll be fine?” He asked, turning to Loki.

“Bored, I expect,” Loki said, “but yes, fine.”

“You should try to sleep,” Steve tried. “You need your rest.”

“Perhaps,” Loki said, and Steve was tempted to push the point but with an audience there decided he was unlikely to get anywhere. He let it go.

“All right,” he said to Sif, stepping over the threshold. “I’ll follow you. Loki…I’ll be back.”

“Hmm-mm,” Loki said. Steve hesitated, almost adding _I love you,_ but remembered in time that Sif might not know anything about their relationship and kept himself to a simple, “I’ll see you soon,” before shutting the door.

He turned to Sif, who was giving him a strange look. Thoughtful, maybe. “This way,” she said, and began striding off down the hall. Steve had to hurry to make sure she didn’t leave him behind.

They were in a wing of the palace Steve didn’t recognize, which made him wonder all over again how big it really was. He’d seen it from the outside, but it was hard to get a sense from there of just how many hallways there might be nestled inside the towering spires. Steve kept half an eye on Sif, wanting to engage her in conversation but not quite sure of the best way to go about it.

Ultimately, she broke the silence. “You and Loki,” she said, sounding like she had been considering for a while. “How long have you been…”

Steve felt his face heat. He supposed he couldn’t be surprised that she knew, whether Thor had told her or she’d just worked it out. He wondered how many of Thor’s friends knew, and how much. “A while,” he said vaguely. “It’s been…a while.”

“Hm,” Sif said, and nodded to herself. She didn’t ask anything further, and after a moment Steve cleared his throat.

“Thor…speaks very highly of you,” he tried.

“Does he?” Sif seemed pleased, if faintly. “Well he should. The number of scrapes I’ve gotten him out of over the years would fill a saga. Him and me…and Loki.” She exhaled, quietly, and shook her head. “How times change.”

“Seems like,” Steve said, wishing he dared to ask. He wanted, sometimes so _badly,_ to hear stories about that time in Loki’s life, when he’d been happy and young and open-hearted, but Loki never told them and to ask someone else about it seemed like a breach of privacy, somehow.

“My loyalty is first to Thor,” Sif said, suddenly, “but despite what you may think, I have no wish to see Loki dead.”

Steve blinked. “I didn’t-”

Sif’s lips thinned. “Thor accused me of as much.” There was hurt under the anger in her voice, though she covered both quickly. “I thought it best I disabuse you of any similar misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think he probably meant it,” Steve said, a little taken aback. “He’s just…worried. And upset.”

“All of us are,” Sif said, a little tartly, and then clamped her mouth shut as though she’d said too much, looking upset. Steve looked at her sidelong for several moments, sorting through his thoughts, what she’d said and what he’d seen.

“It seems like…” Steve paused, choosing his words carefully. “Are you in some kind of trouble? The work Odin is having you do…”

Sif gave him a look Steve thought was faintly surprised before glancing quickly away. “I am not being punished, no. It is a great honor to serve the All-Father personally.” Her voice was a little stiff, though.

“Not one you chose, though,” Steve said, still careful. Sif did not look at him this time.

“It seems the All-Father believes I need to be kept close,” Sif said stiffly, after a moment. “No doubt it is wise.”

“What does he think you’re going to do?” Steve asked, keeping his own increasingly unkind thoughts on the All-Father’s wisdom to himself. Sif’s nose wrinkled.

“Something unwise,” she said, voice tart again, and then shook her head. “It is unimportant.”

Steve was less sure about that, but he decided to let it go. They were approaching a set of intricately carved doors. “This isn’t a formal meeting,” Sif said as they drew near. “But I would still…” she hesitated, apparently considering saying something and then changing her mind. “Don’t worry,” she said instead, which Steve did not exactly find reassuring.

“I’m not,” Steve said. He wasn’t going to be intimidated, no matter how intimidating Thor’s father made himself. Whatever Odin wanted from him couldn’t be anything that he couldn’t handle.

Sif rapped on the door’s frame and Steve took a moment to examine the carvings. The carvings weren’t just patterns, he realized, but scenes, apparently from a great battle. At the center of the right door stood a man that was unmistakably Odin, his long spear held high. On the left door was another figure, grotesque and ugly and kneeling, clearly in submission. The carving was of sufficient detail for Steve to make out patterns on its skin, and it took him a moment to recognize where he’d seen their like before, and then he jerked.

“The war against Jotunheim,” Sif said, apparently seeing him looking. Steve felt his expression tighten.

“What room is this?” He could hear the strain in his voice.

“The council room,” Sif said, giving him an odd look. “Where Odin meets with his councilors…or with the Council, I suppose.”

“Are you sure this isn’t a formal meeting?” Steve asked. His eyes kept sticking on that rendition of what must be a frost giant and thinking of Loki, his beautiful deep blue skin and the sensitive markings he’d seen the one – the _one_ time Loki had changed in front of him. Thinking about the way he talked about himself in that form, like a monster or a _thing._ Anger welled up hot in his chest just as the door swung open and Odin’s voice rolled out, saying, “enter, Captain Steven Rogers. Lady Sif, you are dismissed.”

Sif gave him a look that might have been of warning or sympathy before she bowed and turned away. Steve stepped forward, trying to put a lid on the anger bubbling within him. Odin was sitting at the end of a long table, his hands resting on it, eye regarding Steve with bland curiosity. Steve made himself walk forward and sit down, this time without saluting.

“All-Father,” Steve said, struggling to keep his voice polite. “Can I ask the purpose of this meeting?”

“I am given to understand that your timely intervention saved Loki from death in the dungeons,” Odin said, his voice smooth as though he were talking about the weather.

“Right place at the right time,” Steve said, keeping his own tone equally bland.

“I suppose thanks are in order, then,” Odin said. “Despite the fact that I do not recall authorizing any visits to Loki at all.” Steve lifted his chin, refusing to apologize. He hoped the Queen wasn’t in trouble, though. Odin regarded him for a long moment with his one eye, gaze sharp and knowing. “But that is not why I summoned you,” Odin said, finally.

“Why did you, then?” Steve asked. Odin leaned back.

“When I banished Thor to Midgard,” he said, eye moving away from Steve to look elsewhere, “It was a punishment for his arrogance and lack of thought. I did not expect him to become so…attached to your realm. If this…situation has made anything clear, it is that Asgard needs her crown prince here. I have permitted his dalliance among you mortals until now, but now he is needed here.”

Steve shifted. “This sounds like a conversation you should have with Thor.”

A flicker of frustration passed over the All-Father’s face, though briefly. “I have. It seems he has developed the sense of responsibility I wished, but to the wrong realm.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said, not very apologetically, “but I still don’t see where I come into this.”

“You are Thor’s friend, are you not?” Odin’s eye focused back on Steve, and he had again that impression of immense will bearing down on him. “Convince him of the necessity of his staying here. Remind him of his duty to his home. He has played long enough with mortals; it is here that Thor belongs.”

Steve felt himself bristle. “I don’t think Thor is ‘playing’ with anyone,” he said, voice a little tight. “And I think he belongs wherever he wants to be. Sorry, Your Majesty, but Thor is my friend and I’m not going to try to boss him around for you.” He realized too late how that had come out, and indeed Odin’s eyebrows rose a fraction.

“Let me ask this,” Odin said, his voice noticeably cooler. “Is your antipathy towards me on Thor’s behalf or on another’s?”

_Diplomacy,_ Steve reminded himself, but he kept thinking of the carvings on the doors and the guard Odin had sent to bring Loki back by force, everything Loki had said and not said about his father. He pressed his lips together. “I beg your pardon,” he said, finally, stiffly. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Odin leaned forward again, his one eye glinting. “Has Loki told you tales about me?”

“I can make up my own mind based on what I see,” Steve said flatly. _How could you,_ he wanted to ask. _How did you think it was acceptable – appropriate! – to treat your son – either of them – like you have?_ He swallowed it, and gestured toward the door. “I noticed the carvings.”

Odin’s expression did not change. “Indeed. I take it you made something of them?”

“Just noticing.”

Odin regarded him. “You seem quick to make judgment, Captain Steven Rogers. You who have not before now traveled outside of your own little realm.”

“I know ugliness when I see it,” Steve said, and then managed to shut his mouth.

“You are presumptuous,” Odin said coolly, like it was a statement of fact.

“Maybe it’s not my place to judge,” Steve said, keeping his gaze level on Odin’s. “I’m just saying what I see.”

“What you see is fairly limited,” Odin said, his eyes still sharp. “And you are right. It is not your place.”

“If it’s not my place,” Steve said, knowing he was running his mouth and no longer able to care, “then why are you bothering to talk to me? Your Majesty.”

For just a moment, Odin looked irritated, maybe even angry, but then his expression was wiped clean again and he stood up. “Curiosity, perhaps,” he said. “About a mortal Thor respects, and who apparently has managed to catch my younger son’s interest as well.” Steve stiffened, and Odin – smiled, very slightly. “I am not so unaware of things.”

“Then you should know,” Steve said, suddenly bold, “that I’m going to do everything I can to get Loki out of this mess.”

“I am sure that you will.” Odin turned his back, waving a hand in a dismissive gesture that it struck Steve he’d seen before. “You may go.”

Steve hesitated a moment longer. “What are you going to do,” he asked.

“What I must, as Asgard’s ruler.” For a moment, Steve thought he heard a note of weariness in Odin’s voice, but it was gone in his next words. “You are dismissed, Steven Rogers.”

Steve didn’t like that, but he let it go, turning around and exiting the room. The doors closed behind him with a thud, and Steve looked at them again for a moment, feeling his nose pinch before he turned away and started down the hallway that had led him here, hoping he hadn’t made things worse.

* * *

That evening, Thor, Steve, and Natasha convened in Frigga’s sitting-room after another feast – this one less lavish, Steve supposed, though still overwhelming – and to Steve’s relief without the dancing. Natasha had maneuvered her way into sitting furthest from Thor, next to the council member Aegir, apparently, and spent the entire meal chatting amiably with him in a way Steve could only envy. Frigga herself was absent from their meeting, though she’d bent down before leaving and kissed Thor on the forehead – and then Steve as well, before gliding out.

“So,” Natasha asked, propping her elbows on her knees. “How did your meeting with the king go?”

Steve glanced at Thor, who looked both worried and distracted. “All right,” he said slowly. “It definitely could have gone worse.” He hadn’t mentioned Odin’s request to Thor, nor did he intend to.

“Get any ideas about his intentions?” Natasha asked, but Steve just shook his head. She glanced to Thor. “What about you?”

“Are you asking me about my father’s intentions?” Thor sighed heavily. “I do not know. Or I am no longer certain. As for what I have been doing…I have spent all of the day in the library, reading old records, both legal and historical.”

“Did you find anything?” Steve asked. Thor blew out a breath.

“I am not certain of that, either. I found many things that might possibly help, but they are all…difficult. There is a case of a half-Vanir warrior in Asgard that was arrested during the Aesir-Vanir war for giving information to the Vanir that I thought might be useful, as he was deemed to fall under Vanir authority rather than Aesir, but he was killed before the case was tried. There are some muddled accounts of some minor nobleman who was indicted for crimes against Alfheim, but it is not clear what the crimes were or what happened to him. The most – the most like I could find was a very, very old record of a rebellion conducted against an Aesir king by his sister before the realm was unified.”

“And what happened to her?” Natasha asked, her head cocked to the side. Thor sighed, his nose wrinkling.

“The king in question beheaded her and ate her heart.” Steve jerked, and Thor grimaced. “It was…a violent time,” Thor said, sounding almost apologetic.

“No kidding,” Steve said, a little dryly.

“I will keep looking,” Thor said, staunchly. “The librarian, Snotra, says she believes she remembers one or two cases where charges of treason did not result in execution.”

“What about you?” Steve asked, turning to Natasha. “What have you found out?”

Natasha tugged on one of her ears. “You saw me feeling out that Aegir fellow at dinner,” she said. “I think most of these Council people are still trying to keep their options open. Njörd’s first move – trying to get you declared a traitor – was a bust because Loki showed up here. I get the impression that’s throwing people off.”

“Throwing them off how?” Steve asked.

“That it’s not clear what the next move is,” Natasha said. “Thor’s here, and for the most part Asgard’s people still like Thor. They actually have to deal with Loki, now, and the process of a trial, and that’s messy. At a guess, Njörd is trying to figure out the best way to spin this to his advantage – which it seems to me would be to win this case and get Loki executed. For the rest, though…it’s possible that Odin’s position isn’t looking so shaky anymore. That makes playing against him a dangerous game.” Natasha glanced at Thor. “Does this all sound reasonable to you? You know your people better than I do.”

Thor exhaled. “And Loki would know this kind of thing better than I. But it does not sound unreasonable.”

“Speaking of Loki,” Steve said, “why aren’t we involving him in this conversation? Now that he’s out of the dungeons-”

“Because there’s a guard on his door,” Natasha said. “And not one of Frigga’s – or even Odin’s, apparently. Aegir told me at dinner that the Council was placing two drawn from their retainers rather than the Einherjar – the palace guard. As a security measure.” Thor’s eyebrows drew together.

Steve felt himself stiffen. “Is he still safe?” He asked. “Even if they can’t pass the threshold-”

“For now, I think so,” Natasha said. “One failed assassination is bad enough. A second attempt, even if it did work, would look suspicious. They won’t try again.”

Steve wasn’t sure he was comforted by that, let alone the fact that it probably meant he probably couldn’t see Loki again, or not until the trial itself. He pushed his own unhappiness down, trying to focus. “Right,” he said. “So that’s why we’re not talking there. What’s the upshot of what you’re saying, Natasha?”

“That I think we have a window to make our case even before starting the official trial,” she said. “We’ll have to step carefully, of course, but our prospects aren’t, I don’t think, as dim as Loki suggested to you, Steve. We just need to persuade those that are hesitating that it’s in their best interests not to kill Loki.”

“How do we do that?” Steve asked, a little dubiously.

“That depends on who you’re trying to convince.” Natasha let her head drop back. “Some of them – though I wouldn’t count on it being most – might respond to an argument about fairness. Others…it might make sense to point out gently that an execution looks ugly and requires more logistical planning than letting us handle Loki. Thor, you mentioned that you’re friends with one of them-”

“Tyr,” Thor said. “I can tell him that Loki is no longer a threat to Asgard and ask…”

“Sorry, Thor,” Natasha cut in, “But that first bit coming from you isn’t going to carry a whole lot of weight, I bet. I’d put the emphasis on doing a favor for you. You said his family’s ambitious – let them do the math whether to get the favor of the crown prince or possibly a share in the power Njörd _might_ manage to grab.” Thor looked troubled, but he did nod, if slowly. “You _can_ also point out that Loki has stayed out of Asgard’s business since he’s been staying with us, but I’d make that more about the fact that we have the situation under control than anything else.”

“Very well,” Thor said. “But what about the others?”

“Variations on a theme. Everyone has an angle; it’s just a matter of figuring out what that is. For some of these old-fashioned folks who want to think they’re looking out for Asgard – maybe remind them who has been looking out for Asgard for the past few millennia. We don’t necessarily have to convince a majority that Loki deserves to go free, just that execution isn’t the only answer.”

When Natasha said it, it didn’t sound so impossible, though Thor still looked dubious. “I will speak with Tyr, then,” he said after a long moment, “and also – I will attempt to speak with Bragi.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ve got Aegir,” she said, “and Frigga said that she’ll invite me to a lunch she’s having with Hermod. Steve…”

“I’m…not the best at this,” Steve said slowly. “I could maybe…Loki said Hretha would appreciate a straightforward approach and that I can do. But I’m not much of a talker.” And he didn’t want to get this wrong, not when so much was hinging on getting it right. Natasha gave him a dubious look.

“Says you,” she said. “You’re persuasive, Steve, and charismatic. You’re not flashy, sure, but when you believe in something you’re good at getting people to listen. I think you should try taking Ullr and Oðr.”

Steve took a deep breath and nodded, squaring his shoulders. He couldn’t – _couldn’t –_ fail Loki on this. “I’ll – all right. We have – three more days. Right?” He directed the last question at Thor, who nodded, looking grim.

“We’ve done more with less,” Natasha said quietly.

_Have we?_ Steve wanted to ask, but made himself keep silent. He wondered how Loki was doing, what he was thinking. If he was scared.

He pushed himself to his feet. “I guess we’d better not waste time, then.”

* * *

Steve was woken from a sleep deeper and more restful than he could remember having in a long time to a series of brisk knocks on his door. He stumbled out of bed and made it almost to the door before remembering that he was a dignitary to a foreign realm and probably shouldn’t appear half-naked. He pulled on a white undershirt, tried to neaten his hair, and then opened the door.

The servant standing outside bowed low. “Captain Steven Rogers of Midgard,” he said. “You are cordially invited to a formal tour of the palace and its grounds.”

“I – what?” Steve said. “When?”

“Commencing in one hour,” the servant said. “Do you require assistance in your preparations? The crown prince instructed that you did not require a manservant, but I would be happy to appoint one if need be.”

By the sound of it, Steve thought, _cordially invited_ might as well have been _your presence is required._ “No,” Steve said quickly, “that’s fine, I can – I’ll get ready on my own. Is Thor – the crown prince – coming on this tour?”

The servant gave him an odd look. “No,” he said. “The crown prince has his own duties to attend to. If you have a message for him…”

Steve shook his head. “Nothing that can’t wait. I, um. Where do I go for this tour?”

He listened to the directions the servant gave him, offered thanks, and waited a moment, expecting him to move on. When he just stood there, however, Steve awkwardly excused himself and shut the door, rubbing his eyes groggily. Steve realized belatedly that he hadn’t asked if Natasha was coming.

Steve washed his face briskly and changed into another dress shirt and slacks, though now that he’d seen Aesir formalwear it all seemed pretty drab by comparison. There was a plate of food in his room again, a light breakfast, and Steve sat down to eat it briskly but not in a rush. He checked himself in the mirror, running his fingers through his hair one more time, and then stepped out into the hallway. He supposed it was surprising that they’d been given free rein as long as they had. Maybe it was a result of the fact that they hadn’t been expected, he thought, or else maybe someone had initially assumed they were inconsequential and now thought otherwise.

Natasha was indeed standing in the large, arched room in which Steve found himself, yawning into her hand and looking more than a little groggy. “You too?” She murmured as he approached. Her smile was a little rueful. “And when we’ve got a busy schedule already.”

That hadn’t occurred to Steve, and he tensed. “Do you think someone’s trying to keep us busy so we can’t – do what we need to?” He asked, keeping his voice low. Natasha shrugged.

“I’m not saying yes, but I’m not saying no, either.”

Their tour guide was a woman in relatively plain dress who introduced herself as Urtha and addressed them both as ‘warriors of Midgard.’ She was friendly, chatty, and thoroughly innocuous.

“You are the first visitors from Midgard recorded in our histories,” Urtha said, smiling brightly. “I feel fortunate to be the one to guide you through Asgard’s many wonders. This way, please.” Steve caught Natasha’s grimace out of the corner of his eye and tried to give her a reassuring smile. At least, he told himself, maybe he could learn something from this.

Indeed, removed from the urgency of their situation, it _was_ interesting. The palace itself, Steve learned, had been built by Odin’s father Bor – whose statue Urtha indicated in one of the courtyards, towering and imposing. It had been and was now, Urtha claimed, the greatest work in the Nine Realms, constructed with a combination of magic and dwarven craft. Urtha walked them through a courtyard full of fountains that apparently commemorated the Aesir-Vanir war (in which Asgard was victorious) and a hall with intricate mosaics that commemorated the war with the Dark Elves (in which the Aesir had also been victorious). Steve examined the mosaic carefully, a part of him awed by the art even as another part wondered if Midgard was the only realm the Aesir had not fought against.

Still, Steve kept quiet until they reached another long hallway hung with tapestries on either side. The colors were vibrant and bright, and Urtha seemed to be moving to walk past them but Steve’s eyes caught on blue figures with bright red eyes and he turned, stopping and stepping back. It was a war scene, he realized, giants ranged on one side and Aesir on the other, the Jotnar looming menacingly and the Aesir striding forth, boldly defending the cowering figures at the utmost left.

“What is this,” he asked, and heard the harsh note in his voice, probably sharper than he meant. Urtha turned, looking startled. He could feel Natasha giving him a quelling look, but he suddenly felt the need to ask, and he didn’t want to ask Thor.

“That tapestry? It depicts the war with the frost giants for Midgard,” Urtha said, seeming vaguely embarrassed. “It is an old work, but for many years the subject was in vogue – to represent Asgard as defender of the Nine Realms, of course. I hope you do not take offense.”

It took Steve a moment to realize that she was probably talking about the depiction of the humans, cowering in fear. He shook his head. “I’m not – I’m not offended.” Not by that, anyway. “I’m just curious.”

Urtha seemed both confused and relieved. “Of course. When the Jotnar attacked Midgard, seeking to expand their power out of their proper realm-”

“No,” Steve interrupted, “I don’t mean about what happened, I mean about-” He gestured at one of the blue giants in the tapestry. “Them. As a people. Are you still at war?”

“No,” Urtha said at once. “You need not worry. The Jotnar were thoroughly defeated. They would not dare challenge the will of the All-Father, and with their leader Laufey defeated-”

“Their leader?” Steve interrupted again. “I thought he was their king. Who’s in charge now?”

A look of pure consternation crossed Urtha’s face. “I do not know much of Jotun politics,” she said, after a moment’s hesitation, and if her voice was polite enough the look she gave Steve was less so. “Nor do I understand why this should concern you. Asgard protects the Nine Realms. Even if Jotunheim should recover its strength, the All-Father would protect your realm from their wrath.”

“Steve,” Natasha said, a warning in her voice as he opened his mouth again. Steve made himself shut his mouth, not even sure what he wanted, what he expected. Urtha stared at him a moment longer, then seemed to shake herself and turned with a slightly curt, “this way, please.”

“What was that about,” Natasha murmured.

Steve said nothing, just making a face and glancing once more at the ominous figures of the frost giants, a thousand small snide remarks in Loki’s voice at the back of his mind, _monstrous, wicked_. Natasha followed his gaze, eyes narrowing.

“Let’s go,” Steve said, his voice a little short. Natasha kept pace with him, but she didn’t try to press.

The rest of the tour went smoothly enough, though Urtha seemed to have cooled toward Steve, or at least treated him with a kind of cautious wariness, and seemed to be treading carefully – wary, Steve thought, of arousing the eccentric Midgardian.

* * *

As though someone was determined to make up for their freedom over the past couple days, the hours after the tour were equally scripted. Urtha turned them over to another man, a steward who conducted them to lunch in a room overlooking the water that surrounded the city. He hovered nearby through the meal, which meant they kept the conversation bland. After lunch (hearty enough, Steve thought, to be a much larger meal) they were traded to still another servant who offered to show them the city outside the palace. Natasha bowed out, pleading an engagement with the Queen, but Steve had no such excuse.

He would probably have enjoyed just wandering through Asgard’s streets on a different day and under different circumstances – and without a guide who gave him the sense that he was being given carefully curated views of the lives of the non-royal Aesir – but as it was Steve just felt cossetted, like he was being treated like a child and being kept busy. At least, he thought, Natasha might be getting some work done, and he hoped Thor was managing to find the time too.

Steve finally managed to excuse himself once they returned to the palace, pleading a need to fetch something from his rooms. His guide left him alone with some visible reluctance, and Steve wondered again if someone was trying to distract them or just intimidate them.

Well, Steve thought stubbornly, neither one was going to work.

Steve headed back toward his rooms with half a thought of trying to drift by where Loki was to at least take a look at the guards Natasha had mentioned. He wondered if Frigga would know a way to sneak in. Turning the corner, Steve heard voices, lowered but still clearly audible: “—be reasonable, my lady. There is a clear choice here.”

Steve felt himself tense, recognizing Forseti’s voice from their welcoming party on the Bifrost – the one who had seemingly taken such pleasure in putting Loki in chains.

“I do not appreciate being bullied or browbeaten, sir,” said a low and irritated sounding female voice in answer, interrupting Forseti mid-sentence. “And you may tell your master as much. I will do as I have always done in these matters and judge for myself. If Njörd wishes to speak honestly to me, then he knows where to find me.”

Forseti, wearing blue trimmed with white fur, emerged looking huffily displeased from a doorway a few entrances down from them. His pace checked only slightly when he saw Steve, but he strode past without saying anything. Steve paused, looking at the open doorway, and then stepped toward it and glanced inside. The woman inside was tall like all the Aesir, her iron gray hair pulled back in a severe bun from a face that might not be beautiful but was certainly still handsome. She was looking straight at him and did not seem surprised to see him there.

“Ah,” she said. “You must be one of the Midgardians, is that correct?” She stood up, looking him frankly up and down. “Based on the various descriptions I have heard, you must be the Captain, is that so?”

“Yes,” Steve said, a little taken aback. “Steve Rogers, ma’am.”

Her eyes were sharp, flint grey, and merciless. “I am Lady Hretha Bodesdottir, fifth seat of the Council. At a guess, this is not the first time you have heard my name.”

“No,” Steve agreed slowly. “It is not.”

“Are you here to ask old Hretha for something, then?” She settled back down on the one chair in the room, her hands folded together. “You must have heard how well that went for that fool Forseti.”

“You’re right,” Steve said, still fumbling his way along. “I don’t think there’d be much point in my – trying to persuade you of anything.”

“Wiser than you look, Midgardian.” Hretha steepled her fingers under her chin. “But I have a feeling that you are not finished.”

_If you approach her, do so directly and without subterfuge,_ Steve remembered Loki saying. He took a deep breath. “No,” he said, “I’m not. You’re right that I’d heard your name before – talking to Loki.”

“Oh?” Hretha’s expression remained smooth. “What did the boy say?”

_The boy,_ Steve noted, and wondered if that was good or bad. “He described you as firm and unyielding with no patience for foolishness.” He thought he caught a small twitch of Hretha’s mouth, but a moment later it was gone. “Because of that, I’m going to talk straight with you. I’m here – in Asgard – to argue on his behalf, because I don’t think this trial is about justice at all, and even if it were, I don’t think killing Loki is going to serve anyone’s interests.”

Hretha sat back, fingers dropping from her chin. “Would it not? Loki’s actions have, to date, threatened the stability of three realms, one of which was your own.”

“I know that,” Steve said, “and I’m not saying it’s not true or that his actions weren’t wrong – weren’t horrible. But for the past two years – Loki’s left you alone. He’s left Earth alone. I’m not asking you to dismiss what Loki’s done. But I am asking you to consider whether Njörd’s solution is the right one.”

Hretha watched him, eyes slightly narrowed. “What do you think should be done, then, Captain Rogers?”

“I think-” Steve hesitated, and took a deep breath. “I think you should release Loki back into the Avengers’ custody. He’s been – working with us-” That was stretching the truth a little, but he _hoped_ it would be true more as time went on- “—and then we’d be keeping an eye on him. He’d be out of Asgard and away from your throne.”

“Would your realm agree with you that such a sentence was just?” Hretha asked, her eyes hard – unyielding, like Loki had said. “Those who perished because of him – would they think it fair? Or would they wish for recompense?”

Steve swallowed. He knew the answer to that, but he knew too… “That’s not what’s at stake here. I think you know that.”

“Perhaps I know something else.” Hretha stood. “I have been willing to listen to you because of my irritation with Forseti, but ultimately what I tell you is the same as I told him – I make my own decisions. It has been…interesting to speak with you, nonetheless.” She gestured toward the door. “If you would excuse me.”

Steve felt his heart sink, but he stepped back. “Of course,” he said. “Thank you – at least for listening.”

“Indeed,” Hretha said, standing and stepping to the door, beginning to close it. “Good day, Captain Rogers of Midgard. And should you speak with her…send my greetings to the All-Mother. And my sympathies.”

Steve turned around, feeling his shoulders slump. That didn’t sound like a much. At the moment, he was feeling extremely short on victories, and beginning to fear that Loki didn’t just need a victory but a miracle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Their fourth day in Asgard dawned like the others, clear and bright with the warmth of summer in the air."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No notes necessary this week. With thanks to my beta [ameliarating](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com) as always. I feel like I should apologize for the lack of _other_ fic, but as some of you may know Dragon Age: Inquisition came out a few weeks ago and has pretty much killed my productivity. Oh yeah, and also college I guess??

Their fourth day in Asgard dawned like the others, clear and bright with the warmth of summer in the air. He, Thor, and Natasha had met the night before, but there had been little new or hopeful to share. Thor had been sunk in a brooding, dark mood that he declined to explain, and Natasha would say only that her conversation with Aegir had been “better than she’d feared and less than she’d hoped.” Steve was painfully aware of Loki’s absence, both in the meeting and generally.

His sleep had been restless.

And now, Thor informed him, standing in Steve’s doorway looking distracted, they were to go on a hunt.

“What?” Steve said blankly. Thor looked displeased.

“Njörd has arranged it,” Thor said. “And invited me as well. I am not certain of his purpose, I admit.”

“I’m not really a hunter,” Steve said, carefully. Thor shook his head.

“On this sort of hunt – it is all ceremonial. You will not be expected to do any real hunting. It is like – going on a walk, more or less. Can you – you can ride a horse,” Thor said, looking expectant. Steve made a face.

“I know the _theory,_ more or less. I’ve never actually _done_ it, though. I don’t know if Natasha ever has either.”

Thor seemed faintly surprised. “You do not think she would know how? I assumed…”

“Natasha likes giving the impression she knows more than she actually does,” Steve said, “but don’t tell her I said so.” He rubbed his forehead. “I’m guessing this isn’t the kind of thing we can get out of. I guess this is my chance to meet this Njörd fellow.”

Thor’s face darkened. “I have a feeling he will wish to speak with you.” He paused, and then added, “but there will be others…Tyr is riding with us, and I will seek to converse with him, if I can get the chance. Hopefully…hopefully it will not drag on too long. I have an appointment to be in the lower archives this afternoon.”

Steve noticed, belatedly, the dark circles around Thor’s eyes and the weary way he stood, and frowned. “Did you sleep last night, Thor?” He asked, and his friend shook his head.

“I was reading,” he said. “There is so much to go through, and I…what if I miss the one thing that could help?”

Steve felt a pang. “Thor,” he said, slowly. “You know…” But he couldn’t figure out the right thing to say. Thor shook himself and ran a hand through his hair.

“But that is not – the hunt,” he said, as though reminding himself. “We must get you some clothes, and Natasha as well.”

“Clothes?” Steve said blankly, but realized quickly that nothing he’d brought with him would work very well for this kind of thing. “Right. How are we going to do that?”

Thor frowned, looking Steve up and down. “I doubt it will be too much trouble finding something that will fit you, at least well enough for the day. Natasha, however…”

“What about me?” Natasha asked, seeming to materialize behind Thor, though Steve supposed she might have been in the hall already.

“Apparently we’ve been invited on a hunt,” Steve said. Natasha’s eyebrows ticked up slightly. “And I didn’t really bring the right clothes.”

“I don’t even know that I have the right clothes,” Natasha said mildly, and glanced at Thor. “Let me guess – in a city full of statuesque women, you’re going to have a hard time finding anything that’ll fit a woman under five foot ten, aren’t you.”

“You are…slighter than most of the Aesir,” Thor said. Natasha’s lips twitched.

“Very diplomatic. Know any teenagers? They might be around the right height, at least.” She stretched. “Or I can always stay here.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Steve said. Natasha smirked at him, very briefly, and dropped back down onto the balls of her feet.

Thor summoned a servant with a small pad in Steve’s quarters that he hadn’t known the purpose of, and gave him a series of instructions about what he was to look for before dismissing him. Steve watched Thor with some curiosity, amazed at how easily he seemed to shift into the role of prince from what Steve was used to – a relatively easygoing man, with a fierce temper to be sure but a generally amiable outlook on the world and its people. Even worried and stressed, Thor radiated assurance and confidence even more than Steve was used to seeing from him. He glanced at Natasha and caught her watching, too.

Thor turned around, frowning a little. “I do not know quite what to expect from this,” he said. “Njörd has some goal in mind, I am sure, but I do not know what it is. No doubt he will want to speak with both of you.”

“I can’t wait,” Natasha said dryly. Thor started to pace.

“If I could warn you to prepare for something in particular-”

“Thor,” Natasha said, sounding almost gentle, “we’ll figure it out.”

The servant from before, accompanied by a woman this time, reappeared at the door, each carrying a large pile of clothing. “My lady,” said the woman with him, “if you would come with me, we have found a few things that might fit.” She held up her armload of rich fabrics. Natasha looked from Thor to Steve and then stood up.

“I always loved playing dress up,” she said, giving Steve a faintly baleful look before stepping out. Thor took the bundle of clothes from the other servant.

“You may go,” Thor said, and the servant bowed and hurried away. Thor paced over to the bed and began laying out the clothing he’d received, all of it to Steve’s eye hopelessly elaborate and…well, decadent. He trailed over to look nonetheless.

“They’re paid, right?” He asked, after a moment in which Thor frowned at the offerings, seeming less than pleased. “I mean – the servants.”

“What?” Thor gave him a startled look, then seemed affronted. “Of course. And paid well.” He frowned. “Did you think-”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to – this is all very strange to me.” Thor examined his face, still frowning. Steve cleared his throat. “Asgard is…very different from what I’m used to.”

Thor rocked back on his heels, giving all his attention to Steve. “I suspect you do not say that as praise.”

Steve glanced away. “I don’t want to be rude, Thor. I know this is your home, and – it is beautiful. And amazing. And I certainly can't complain about the treatment I’ve been getting.”

Thor nodded slowly. “But?” He said. Steve hesitated and then blew out a long breath.

“I get the impression…people who aren’t Aesir aren’t seen as – as important, here. And you have every right to be proud, but…” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I guess it just makes me feel a little funny. This is a great – realm, and it’s very old, and I think sometimes that can…make people think they can do anything. The United States – on Earth, sometimes we do the same thing, and assume that because we’re stronger in some ways as a country we’re…better than everyone else.” He glanced at Thor worriedly, but Thor didn’t look angry, just…thoughtful.

“I do not think you are wrong, my friend,” he said, after Steve was quiet for a moment. “And I have…since my banishment, I have wondered if…Asgard is called the Defender of the Realms, but a defense can become a prison. I always learned that among the Nine Realms of Yggdrasil, Asgard was at their height, and thus it was right that we ruled. Now it seems – in order for a tree to stand, it needs its roots and trunk as well.”

Steve nodded awkwardly, and cleared his throat again. “Have you…what do you know about Jotunheim, Thor?”

Thor’s head snapped around, and he stared at Steve for a moment before dropping his gaze. “You know,” he said, voice a little rough, and Steve suddenly felt his stomach drop, wondering if Thor – shared Loki’s opinion on his birth people.

“I…yes.”

Thor’s shoulders slumped. “I fear I know very little. As yet, I have not – it seemed rude, to simply barge in and demand of them that they answer my questions, and before…I am ashamed to say I did not care. I believed…”

“That they were monsters,” Steve finished, trying not to let his voice be flat. “And that’s – what most of Asgard thinks. Right?”

Thor nodded, his eyes cast downward. “I hope to change that, but…yes. Memory of the war is long and bitter, and giants make good stories for children.” Steve sighed, thinking of the propaganda during the war, and just nodded. Thor was quiet for a long moment before he said, “I hope you do not think poorly of me, Steve Rogers.”

“No,” Steve said quickly. “No, I don’t. Not at all. I think – I think it’s very strong for anyone to be able to realize the faults in their home. Not everybody can, or wants to. And since you know they’re there – seems to me you’d be better equipped to fix them.” He meant it, too, though he couldn’t help but feel sad, for Thor and for Loki and all the things they’d learned here. That they were still unlearning.

Thor gave him a slightly wan smile. “That you would say so means much to me.”

“I mean it,” Steve said firmly, taking a step closer to Thor and gripping his shoulder, and Thor swept him into a hug, squeezing him until Steve’s ribs creaked.

“My brother is lucky,” Thor said, voice muffled, “and so am I.”

“So am _I,_ ” Steve said, a little breathlessly. Thor released him and Steve steadied himself on the bed. Thor beamed at him, his eyes bright with emotion.

“Thank you for speaking honestly to me,” he said. Steve gave him a small smile.

“I’m sorry it was mostly criticism.”

Thor shook his head. “I would rather you were honest than kind and insincere. Here, you should try on this one,” Thor said, picking up a blue and gold ensemble and shoving it in Steve’s direction. “It is not quite right, but it should do.”

Steve held it up, feeling a little dubious. “I think I’ll need a little help figuring out how it goes on.”

“Of course,” Thor said, and took the garments back. “Let us start with the hose.”

* * *

Natasha came back in while Steve was still struggling with the doublet, looking disgruntled and dressed in a dark purple dress. It suited her fairly well, actually, Steve thought, but she looked less than pleased with it – though she brightened with a snort when she saw Steve.

“I look ridiculous,” Steve said, feeling his face heat.

“No, no,” Natasha said. “You look very gallant.” Thor shook his head firmly.

“You do not look ridiculous, my friend. It is – very different, but the clothing is meant to show off your figure and you do have a fine one.”

Steve felt his face heat up even more and resisted the urge to groan. “Thor…”

“We should have Loki here,” Natasha teased. “He should get the chance to admire your fine figure.” Steve grimaced at her, and she laughed. He looked at Thor.

“Are you sure?” He said, examining himself in the mirror helpfully provided. “I really do feel ridiculous.”

“You do not look ridiculous,” Thor assured him. “I am sorry, my friends, but we really must hurry now. It would look ill to be late.” Steve straightened the doublet again and sighed.

“You ready, Natasha?” He asked.

“Let’s go with yes,” Natasha said, with a lopsided smile, but he could see her do that shift sideways into her Black Widow mode. She’d be fine. Steve squared his shoulders and followed Thor out, hoping that he’d be fine too.

Thor led them through the hallways and out through another pair of double-doors into a courtyard that Steve recognized vaguely from the tour. There was already a gathering, a number of horses and a milling group of people, maybe twenty or thirty, all in various degrees of finery. Steve felt vaguely as though he’d stepped into a medieval tapestry. If only the circumstances were different, Steve thought, he would have loved to sketch everything here.

Thor led them over to a man he introduced as Alrik, the stable-master, standing by a picket of horses. “My guests from Midgard require mounts,” Thor said. Alrik bowed, looking them up and down, and Thor added, “gentle mounts. Midgardians are not horsemen.”

Alrik seemed faintly surprised, but merely murmured, “as you wish, my prince,” and walked away, returning leading two horses, a smaller grey and a taller reddish colored one. Steve glanced at Natasha, who looked powerfully skeptical.

Thor laid a hand on each of their shoulders. “I have to go, my friends,” he said. “You are in good hands. I will speak with you soon.” Before Steve could so much as open his mouth, Thor was striding away. Steve eyed the horses nervously.

“This is Elska,” he said, indicating the grey, “and Gramr,” indicating the red. “Both of them are well-trained and clever beasts. My lady?” Alrik held out the reins for the grey horse – Elska – and Natasha hesitated a moment before she took them.

“Hopefully I remember how to do this,” she said, under her breath but loud enough for Steve to hear. Alrik turned his gaze on Steve and held out the reins expectantly.

Steve took them, after a moment, and offered a nervous smile to Alrik. “Gramr?” He said. Alrik bowed his head and Steve stepped forward, offering his hand for the horse to sniff without thinking before he remembered that horses weren’t dogs. Still, the horse dropped his muzzle and lipped at Steve’s hand. Steve couldn’t help but tense up, half expecting it to take a bite of his fingers.

Alrik, Steve realized, was giving him a concerned look. “Are there not horses on Midgard?” he asked, and Steve shook his head, then realized that was unclear.

“Yes, there are,” he clarified, “but we don’t tend to ride them so much anymore. There are – ah, machines…” He trailed off, not sure of the best way to describe a car. Alrik nodded, however, seeming to understand.

“Ah, yes,” he said, “for long journeys, but you do not – for sporting?”

“No,” Steve said, “not so much.”

“Hm.” Alrik seemed to think this was strange, but politely refrained from saying so. Steve’s head whipped around at a bugle and Alrik smiled. “That is the signal for the hunt to begin. Do you need help mounting?”

Steve glanced over at Natasha, who was already up on her mare’s back, though she looked a little uneasy about it. “I’ll take that,” he said, with a sheepish smile. Alrik instructed him patiently where to put his feet and when to jump up, and while Gramr sidled slightly when Steve dropped clumsily into the saddle he didn’t bolt out from under him as Steve had feared he might. Steve took up the reins, aware of Alrik’s watchful eye, and nudged Gramr with his heels hopefully. To his relief, the horse moved readily enough, and let him steer over to Natasha.

She patted her horse, Elska. “Looking a little nervous there, Steve,” she murmured.

“I’m not the only one,” Steve shot back. Natasha made a face at him. Thor rode up on Steve’s other side, looking perfectly comfortable and at ease – and a little amused. “You are both doing fine,” he said reassuringly. “Asgard’s horses are well trained. They will not give you any trouble.”

“I hope not,” Steve said earnestly, and Thor laughed, seeming lighter than he’d been within the palace walls.

Steve had expected some sort of signal, a horn or hounds or something and then for everyone to burst into a gallop, but the group began to move slowly, filing out of the courtyard a few at a time. Steve didn’t even have to nudge his horse to move; he started walking when the others did, following after.

They rode out of the city along another road than they’d taken on the way in, and Steve tried not to stare as their horses clopped over a bridge with a waterfall thundering below. In the sunlight, the water glimmered, the islands across the water a deep, lush green. Steve’s heart lifted, but only for a moment before he thought of how Loki would make fun of him for staring and wished he could be here. He felt a pang of guilt at being out here at all, celebrating, when Loki was shut up in a little room alone.

Steve took a deep breath and focused himself. He couldn’t do anything about that right now. All he could do was do his best to make sure he didn’t stay there – or worse.

“I am going to go find Tyr,” Thor said, and then paused and added, “if you are both all right?”

“We’re good,” Natasha answered for him. “Go ahead.”

Thor kicked his heels into his horse’s sides and rode forward. “How do you think we’re going to hunt anything with this many people?” Steve asked. “I don’t know much about hunting, but it seems like you don’t want the animals to hear you coming.”

 “If Asgard’s animals are anything like Asgard’s people, they’re not going to run from a challenge,” Natasha said. She paused, and then added, “maybe it’s a dragon.”

Steve wasn’t sure whether to wince or sit up straight. “Do you think it could be?”

Natasha shrugged. “Or a unicorn?” But she smiled, at that. Steve made a mental note to ask Loki about unicorns – or maybe Thor. Loki might lie if he thought it would be amusing.

“Ah, you must be Thor’s mortals,” said an unfamiliar voice, and a horse moved deftly between Steve and Natasha. Its rider was a redhead, touched with a few strands of grey at the temples that made him look distinguished, with a strong chin and nose. Like all the Aesir, he was big, and muscular, though Steve thought he might be past his prime if not as old as Odin. “Well met,” he said, smiling warmly. “I have been meaning to introduce myself to you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, a little surprised and a little wary as well.

“No need to give your names – all Asgard has heard tales of the great Captain and his lovely lady,” said the man, with a slight bow in Natasha’s direction. Steve tried not to laugh at the way Natasha’s expression stiffened.

“Not his,” she corrected, just a little icily. “Agent Romanov will do. I’m afraid I’m not as familiar with you.”

“Prince Thor has indeed been remiss in his introductions,” the stranger said, turning back to Steve, still smiling. “I am Councilor Njörd Vilisson, Speaker for the Twelve and lord of the northern coasts.” Steve felt his spine stiffen and his face freeze. “Your arrival was quite the surprise.”

_Polite,_ Steve reminded himself, _be polite,_ but he could feel anger seething in his chest. This was the man who was responsible for Thor’s difficulties and Loki’s imprisonment, who wanted to see Loki die in the service of his own grab for power. He made himself smile, though it couldn’t have looked very sincere. “It was to us, too. But we couldn’t stay behind with such an – important matter on the line.”

“Ah, yes,” Njörd said, looking curious. “The traitor was your prisoner for some time, isn’t that so? It surprised me, that you did not seek to return him to Asgard before.”

“We can manage ourselves,” Steve said, aware that his voice was less than strictly friendly. “We believed it was up to us to handle Loki.”

“You’re right, though,” Natasha said, and she did much better at sounding conversational. “It was a while. I was curious – what changed?”

“It became clear to those…concerned with the future of Asgard,” Njörd said, “that the traitor prince needed to be dealt with…here. I mean no insult to your abilities, but Loki was…regrettably…a citizen of Asgard, and it is here that his crimes must be tried and punished. Of course Midgard is an important ally and friend, and always has been, but…” His smile was apologetic. Steve felt vaguely nauseous.

_Was,_ he noticed, and wondered if he was already thinking of Loki as – Steve cut off that thought. “Of course,” Steve said flatly. He raised his chin and looked Njörd squarely in the eye. “It sounded to us like Thor was having some trouble, too. Is that part of this sudden need to try Loki again? To make sure his position is secure?”

Steve caught just the slightest flicker of Njörd’s expression, and he sighed, glancing ahead. “Truth be told,” he said, sounding regretful, “some…begin to wonder if Thor is indeed the best ruler for this realm. He is a great warrior, to be sure – as I am certain you know! – and a fine guardian, but to rule…that is different.” Njörd glanced sidelong at Steve, then Natasha. “I hope I do not offend.”

“Not at all,” Natasha said, before Steve could say anything. “But where does that leave Asgard?”

“There are some alternatives,” Njörd said. “Some precedents…but of course, this is all speculation. I hope you do not mistake me – I have the utmost respect and admiration for Prince Thor.” _Liar,_ Steve thought, but kept his mouth shut. “Come what may, Asgard is grateful for Midgard’s loyalty and friendship.”

_Loyalty,_ Steve thought, _like a vassal to a lord?_ He made himself nod, turning his gaze forward with a buzzing in his ears. He could hear Natasha ask another question, but didn’t really listen, trying to calm himself. Did this guy really think that they’d just – what _did_ he think? Steve didn’t care about who sat on the throne of Asgard, not as long as Thor was happy, but he didn’t think this Njörd fellow gave a fig about Thor’s happiness, and that he was playing his political game with Loki’s _life-_

“I must be off, I’m afraid,” Njörd was saying when Steve made himself tune back in. “We shall speak later, I hope. Asgard is honored by your presence.”

“Good hunting,” Natasha said, her smile just a little too toothy. Steve attempted his own smile and said nothing, waiting for Njörd to leave before he let it drop.

“Bastard,” Steve muttered, under his breath. Natasha nodded very slightly.

“I’m not going to disagree there.” She grimaced. “The more I see here, the more I think we _want_ Thor to end up on the throne, if only because it’d be bad for ‘Midgard’ to have one of these other people there.”

“What about what Thor wants?” Steve asked.

“If Thor wants what’s best for his friends and for his home,” Natasha said, her voice a little flat, “he’ll figure that out before too long, too.”

* * *

Steve had just begun to think that Aesir hunting didn’t involve much actual hunting when a cry went up somewhere forward of him and Natasha. “Finally,” Steve heard one of the riders not far from them say, touching her heels to her horse’s sides. Her horse jumped forward and Steve’s followed its lead, surging into a faster gait. Steve tugged back on the reins, startled, but realized quickly that the whole group was moving faster and let Gramr move into a brisk, bouncing pace that seemed just on the verge of turning into something faster. Steve tried to peer ahead of them to see what was going on, but he couldn’t make out much until they burst free of the trees.

Then he did get a good view of their quarry, and felt his mouth drop open. Whatever it was, it was enormous, towering over the horses and Aesir hunters who had surrounded it – as big as an elephant, Steve guessed, or bigger. It was feathered, silver and blue and green, and when it turned its heavy head on sinuous neck to snap at one of the riders its mouth was full of narrow, needle-like teeth. It was quadripedal, legs splayed out to either side where it stood at bay. When it roared, a frill behind its head flared, streaked with bright red.

Steve could see Thor, he thought, near the creature’s hind legs, hammer in hand. Steve reined his horse in, just staring. Natasha pulled up beside him and when he looked at her her eyes were equally round.

The creature’s needle jaws snapped again and Steve jerked as it caught a horse and flung it by the leg like a toy. He didn’t see what happened to the rider. Steve glanced around, but no one else seemed surprised, nor were they moving to intervene – apparently the group that had first surrounded the beast took it on.

“Is that a dragon?” Natasha murmured. “It looks like a dragon to me. With feathers.”

Whatever it was, it fought hard. Steve’s heart was in his throat and he didn’t want to watch but couldn’t look away as the hunters attacked, drew back from the swinging teeth and attacked again. There was clear skill in it, and it was far from a one-sided battle – Steve saw at least one of the hunters get caught by the snapping teeth – but just the same…

“There goes Thor,” Natasha said, and indeed Steve could see Thor on the creature’s neck, hammer upraised. He brought it down with a flash of lightning and the creature screamed, thrashing wildly. One of the hunters buried a spear in the base of its throat.

Steve looked away as the creature began to collapse, swallowing hard.

He could feel Natasha looking at him, and gave her a wan smile.

“I’m going to go get a closer look at that thing,” she said. “Would you rather stay here?”

“I think so,” Steve said, relieved. “Congratulate Thor for me.”

Natasha saluted and nudged her mare forward toward the carnage. The rest of the group was moving in that direction as well, and Steve hoped his hanging back wasn’t too noticeable.

“Not one for bloodshed, Captain of Midgard?”

Steve felt his shoulders lock up almost at once. He turned his head slowly to see a beautiful woman on a black horse approaching on his right. Her hair was thick and dark brown and curly, loose around her shoulders, and her face was heart shaped with delicate features except for her nose, which was strong enough that it might have looked out of place on another woman.

“Not that,” he said, glancing away and feeling a bit self-conscious. “Hunting’s not really…something I enjoy.”

“No?” The woman tilted her head a fraction to the side. “Well, no matter. It gives me the chance to speak with you…alone.”

Steve felt himself tense and tried not to let it show. “What about?” He asked, carefully, and she laughed.

“Not attempting to proposition you,” she said, smiling. “You are not my type.” Steve felt his face turn hot and turned his eyes forward. “No, I was rather curious about…other matters. My good friend Freya had some…interesting things to say about you.” Steve stiffened further, remembering that conversation.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” he said, schooling his voice to be polite.

“I hadn’t given it. Lady Sjöfn Kvasirsdottir. I imagine you know who I am.” She smiled again, girlishly bright. Steve remembered Loki’s description of her and had to think that anyone Loki warily admired was someone to be careful of.

“I’ve heard your name,” Steve said, reaching out to pet Gramr’s mane for something to do with his hands. “You’re on this Council I keep hearing about, right?”

“Indeed.” Sjöfn’s mare shifted and whickered quietly, but she scarcely glanced down. Steve could feel her eyes on him. “I am given to understand you’ve come to Asgard to see that the…sentencing is properly done.” Steve kept his face studiously neutral. “Do you doubt Asgard’s justice, or merely wish to see it carried out yourself?” She paused, but only for a moment. “I would guess not the latter, from a man who dislikes a hunt.”

“A trial isn’t a hunt,” Steve said blandly.

“Isn’t it?” Sjöfn sounded thoughtful. “I imagine one could look at it that way.”

Steve stared at the reins in his hands, focusing on them so he was focusing on something. “It shouldn’t be. It should be about finding the truth and giving everyone a fair hearing.”

“You are an idealist,” Sjöfn said, but she didn’t sound dismissive saying it, just faintly amused. “Interesting.” Steve snuck a look in her direction and found that she was no longer looking at him. “Loki and I were…well, perhaps ‘friends’ is not the best way to put it, but something like. Once.” Sjöfn’s lips twitched. “I appreciated his wicked streak.”

Steve wished he dared ask. Wished he could hear all the stories people here must have about Loki as he’d been before everything went wrong for him, what he’d been like, anything. He knew he could ask Thor, but it seemed cruel, and here and now…he stayed silent instead of saying anything.

“I hope you do not judge me,” Sjöfn said, though she didn’t sound terribly concerned. “He was young, then. Impressionable, I suppose. And it is always a little intoxicating to have a handsome creature idolize one as he did.” She chuckled in her throat, and Steve felt a little twinge of jealousy that he smothered quickly. “But I suppose to you that must all seem very strange.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Why are you telling me this?”

Sjöfn gave him a careless, amused look. “I am merely making conversation. Have you spoken much with Loki, in this time he has spent on Midgard?”

Steve spoke carefully, keeping his gaze directed forward. “Some,” he said, and then amended, “a fair amount.”

“And?”

“And what,” Steve said, buying himself time.

“What did you think?” Sjöfn asked, her eyes back on Steve. He fiddled with his reins, eyes on the bloodstained grass. He was so tired of pretending like this. He wished he dared be honest – completely honest. But he knew more likely than not that would just be asking for worse trouble than they were already in.

“I think…I think he’s a mixed up person who’s done some bad things,” Steve said, finally. “Some really bad things.” Sjöfn appeared to be waiting for more, and after a moment Steve added, “but I don’t think he’s necessarily all bad.”

“Hm. That is more generous than I would expect, from one whose realm he attacked.” Sjöfn’s tone was difficult to read. Steve made himself shrug.

“I guess like you said. I’m an idealist.”

“So it would seem.” Sjöfn nodded, very slightly. “Your friend is returning,” she said, and Steve raised his eyes sharply to see that, indeed, Natasha was coming back in his direction, accompanied by Thor. “It has been pleasant speaking with you, Captain Steven Rogers.” She turned her horse, then paused, looking over her shoulder. “If you speak with Loki again…pass on my well wishes.”

Steve felt himself jerk, but she was already riding off towards a small knot of others.

Thor was spattered with dark red blood and grinning, apparently thoroughly invigorated. “You didn’t miss anything,” Natasha said, “just a lot of very smelly meat. I got a feather, though.” She held it up, nearly as long as Steve’s forearm and bright blue. Thor laughed.

“A satisfactory hunt,” he said, sounding pleased with himself. “With whom were you talking just now, my friend?”

“Sjöfn,” he said, churning nerves back in his stomach. Thor sat up, his eyes sharpening and grin fading. “She knew that I’d been speaking with Loki. I’m not sure how much more she guessed.”

Thor cursed under his breath, brows furrowing. “Is that – that is bad news, isn’t it?”

“Did it seem like it was bad news?” Natasha asked. Steve shook his head.

“I don’t know. I can’t tell anymore.” He was already sick of this, and it had only been four days. How did anyone do this all of the time? “She didn’t _seem…_ I don’t know what she wanted. She didn’t seem _upset._ ” He thought about adding that she’d implied that there’d been a relationship between her and Loki, but decided against it.

“Sjöfn – she at least does not have as direct of reason to dislike my brother as some do,” Thor said hesitantly. “Perhaps – perhaps it will be well.” The lightness had left Thor’s face, settling back into the worried expression he’d borne for the last week. Steve felt a twinge of guilt at its loss.

“Maybe it will,” he said, trying to sound hopeful. It came out a little strained, though.

“We should go back,” Thor said, and sighed. “We have – I need to go back to the library. There is only…” He trailed off, but he didn’t need to say it. _One more day to find enough to save Loki._ It didn’t seem like enough.

* * *

It was mid-afternoon by the time they got back to the palace. Thor excused himself, brows furrowed and looking distracted once more, leaving Steve and Natasha to find their way back inside. Steve was still feeling ridiculous in his borrowed clothes, but was proud of himself at least for managing to find his way back to their hall – where Frigga was waiting by his door. Steve stopped dead, panic fluttering in his throat.

“Your Majesty,” he said quickly, “is everything – that is-”

“Loki is fine,” she said, giving him a very small smile. “He wants to see you, however.”

Steve glanced at Natasha, and then back at Frigga. “I understood that he was – under guard.” Frigga smiled a little wider, expression turning sly.

“So he is,” she said, “but if you think that has prevented me… _seiðr_ is useful for many things, Captain. You cannot tarry too long, but the room itself is warded, so you need not worry about being overheard.”

Steve glanced at Natasha, even as part of him itched to just jump forward and seize every minute he could have. She gave him a nod. “Go ahead,” she said, “I’ll go find Thor and see if I can help him excavate the library. I have a feeling he could use a hand.”

“Thank you,” Steve said. She shook her head, and Steve turned to the Queen. “What do I have to do?”

Frigga held out her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation Steve took it, remembering the uncomfortable sensation of before. “Be at ease,” she said, “I am not going to transport you there directly, merely cloak you from sight, and then you shall follow me. You may feel a slight tingle.”

Steve held his breath reflexively, and indeed did feel – more than a slight tingle, more like an all over prickling, but it lasted only a moment. He looked at himself and to his eyes he looked much the same, but Natasha’s eyes skated over him and then dragged forcefully back, narrowing.

“Unh,” she said, sounding disconcerted. “I don’t like that. You’re not invisible, exactly, I can still tell you’re _there_ but I don’t…want to see you. Ugh, I can’t look.” She glanced away, and Steve remembered the times he and Loki had been out in public and he’d wondered how Loki could go unnoticed even when people seemed to look right at him.

“The guards won’t notice anything?” He asked hesitantly.

“They won’t be looking for you or anyone else with me,” Frigga said, “and are not trained in magic.” She paused, and then added, a bit smugly, “and even if they were, they would need to be more skilled than I to see you. Your friend Lady Romanov can because she knows you are here. They will not.”

Steve nodded, slowly. “Should we go, then?”

“Indeed,” Frigga said, turning. Steve paused a moment.

“Natasha,” he said, “We’ll – meet up later, to update everyone?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, nose wrinkling still. “Now go, I don’t like looking at you when you’re like this.”

Steve hastened down the hallway after Frigga, catching up after a few steps. He stayed quiet for a while, but eventually – after checking both in front and behind to be sure they were alone – cleared his throat. “Can I talk?” He asked.

“For now,” Frigga said serenely. “It would be best if you were quiet when we are closer.”

“Right,” Steve said, a little awkwardly, and fell silent. After a moment of chewing on the inside of his cheek, he asked carefully, “Your…magic. Did you…teach Loki?”

“Yes,” Frigga said, her expression softening. “I taught him much of what he knows, though not all. Odin taught him some as well. Magic is not common among the Aesir.”

Steve considered for a few moments before asking carefully, “is it…common among the Jotnar?”

Frigga seemed to miss a step, but if she did she recovered quickly, giving him a sudden and sharp look. “I do not know,” she said, after a long moment. “What I have heard suggests – not the same kind, perhaps. They have their own talents, but outsiders know little of them. They are…a private people.” Her eyes moved back forward. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.” Steve looked at the Queen sidelong, not sure if she was angry, but he couldn’t tell from her profile. “Odin – the All-Father has magic?”

“He does indeed,” Frigga said. “Though not all of it is his own. Gungnir and the rulership of Asgard confers its own power, tied to the land itself. The majority of Asgard’s rulers have had some talent, even if it is small, in order to better control that power. You had best be quiet now, however. We are approaching.”

Steve shut his mouth and stayed close to Frigga as they turned the corner. Down the hall, he could see two guards standing in the corridor, turned toward each other and speaking in low voices, though when they caught sight of Frigga they both straightened at once. “My queen,” the one on the left said, putting his hand over his heart and bowing. The other followed suit quickly. Steve held his breath, but neither acknowledged that he was there as well.

“Guardsmen,” Frigga said, her voice formal and regal. Steve could hear the difference. “I trust all has been quiet?”

“Yes, my queen,” said the one on the right, quickly. “There have been no disturbances.”

“Then may I pass? I would speak with my son.”

Steve caught the brief glance between the guards, and half expected one of them to challenge her, but both simply bowed with a murmur of assent. One of them turned, reaching for something at his belt, but Frigga glided forward.

“No need,” she murmured, and rested her fingers on the latch. It clicked, and she opened the door smoothly, pausing for a moment with it open to glance at the guards, first one, then the other. Steve took his cue after a moment’s hesitation and, still holding his breath, stepped through the open door, expecting at any moment someone to say something, but then he was inside. “Goodnight, gentlemen,” Frigga murmured, and then followed him through.

Loki was sitting up on the bed, his legs crossed and looking nearly comfortable, but his head came up the moment Steve stepped inside, eyes going unerringly to him. He started, half standing, but then his eyes flicked to the door. “All-Mother,” he said, changing his startled movement to setting aside the book he was holding. “How delightful of you to keep visiting me.”

“I have never intended to leave you alone,” Frigga said. Loki’s expression flickered as she turned to close the door behind her. He waited until it was shut and then lifted a hand and clenched it. Steve felt the tingle of magic on his skin again.

“Steve,” Loki said, lips curving into a smile, and then he nearly propelled himself out of bed and over to Steve. He grabbed Steve by the front of his borrowed doublet and dragged him into a kiss that made Steve’s ears burn, suddenly powerfully aware of Loki’s mother standing there watching. Still, his arms slid around Loki without really thinking and some of the tension left his body even as Loki drew away.

“Your mother,” Steve said, his face feeling hot. Frigga apparently heard him, and let out a low laugh.

“I am not bothered by displays of affection. Loki…”

“You can go,” Loki said, his voice imperious. Steve winced but resisted the urge to say something. He supposed he couldn’t really expect everything to be better after a couple days, but he’d still hoped.

“I will return in a couple of hours,” Frigga said, after a brief pause, and her voice sounded a little more formal than it had. She turned, and Steve saw the moment when she cloaked herself in magic. It was like Natasha had described – he knew she was there but his brain kept trying to tell him not to look at her.

“Mother,” Loki said, the word bursting from him as though he’d tried not to say it. “—thank you.” His voice was stiff and formal, and Steve could feel how tense he was.

“You are welcome, my son,” she said, and Steve turned to see her smile very slightly. “Do not forget what we discussed.”

Loki dropped his eyes, and Frigga vanished. The moment she was gone Loki folded back into Steve and pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder, inhaling deeply as his hands slid over Steve’s sides. Steve felt him hum. “You smell like Asgard,” he said, not sounding altogether pleased about it.

“Sorry,” Steve said, “I had to borrow some clothes for a hunt today.”

Loki pushed back, holding Steve at arm’s length and looking him up and down. He pursed his lips. “Thor dressed you,” he said, sounding almost accusatory, though he added a moment later, “it is not…an ill look for you. Though I think I prefer your usual custom.” Loki moved his hands and straightened Steve’s doublet, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “Though that may just be because I am used to it. Perhaps you should bring this home and wear it to one of Stark’s parties.”

“I don’t think so,” Steve said quickly. Loki laughed, and Steve drew him back in, giving him a slower, lighter kiss. “So I guess you missed me,” he said, trying to joke.

“Indeed,” Loki murmured. “I was bereft. And very bored. I am…glad you were able to come.”

“I would’ve come sooner if I’d known I could,” Steve said. Loki’s eyes slid a little aside, and Steve felt a curl of unease. “Are you feeling all right?” He asked, trying to sound casual. The way Loki glanced at him, quick and a little sharp, made him think it hadn’t been very successful.

“Good as new,” Loki said, giving Steve a quick smile, but Steve noticed now that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Though Eir was quite firm about telling me I should rest. I asked her what other choice she thought I had.” Loki’s voice was dry, but now that Steve had noticed it he couldn’t help but hear the faint cracks in his veneer of casual insouciance.

“Loki,” he said carefully, “is something…wrong?”

“Wrong? No.” Loki bent his head and kissed Steve’s neck, then trailed his tongue up along the side, making him shiver. “Unless it concerns you that I’m pleased to see you.”

“You’re trying to distract me,” Steve said as Loki’s fingers ran up his spine.

“Is it working?” Loki asked lightly, nipping lightly at Steve’s skin. He let out a little sound, body stirring and responding, and made himself stay still and not give in to the urge to press forward against Loki.

“It always makes me nervous when you do that,” he said, aware of the audible strain in his voice. Loki stilled, and then let out a warm exhale on Steve’s neck.

“The day after tomorrow is the trial,” he said, voice soft. “I wanted to see you before then.”

_Oh,_ Steve thought. _Of course._ “I can come back tomorrow night, too,” he said. “If you don’t want to be alone-”

“No,” Loki interrupted. “—no. Not then.”

Steve frowned. “Why not?” Loki was quiet, simply breathing. Steve gave him a little shake. “Loki, why shouldn’t I come back then?”

“Because then I will be afraid,” Loki said, quieter still. “I do not want you to – remember me like that. I wanted – I _want…_ ” He trailed off and turned, twisting in Steve’s hold like he was trying to pull away. Steve held on.

“You’re not giving up,” he said flatly.

“No,” Loki said. “I am not. But I am not…precisely optimistic either.” He stopped trying to pull away, at least. “It is not a lack of faith in you. Asgard’s justice is not merciful. I escaped the axe once, and that I am here again…it feels like fate.”

Steve felt his jaw set. “There’s no such thing as fate.”

“You say that,” Loki said, “but you do not know it. And I feel it, pressing down on me. Pushing me.”

“That’s not fate,” Steve said, his voice rising. “That’s just fear. You said the same thing about – being _fated_ to be evil, and you’ve proven over and over since that you make your own choices and you’re just as capable of doing good as anyone. You said you don’t lack faith in me, but that’s how it feels.”

“And what if you can’t save me?” Loki asked, and this time when he jerked away Steve couldn’t hold onto him. “What then?”

Steve’s hands clenched into fists. “I refuse to accept that. You’re scared, Loki, I get that, but don’t let that turn into despair.”

“If I lose-”

“ _You won’t._ ”

“If I lose,” Loki repeated, louder, “I don’t want you to stay. I want you to leave, before…I want you to leave. Take Romanov and go. Bring Thor too, if you can. He’s watched me die enough.”

Steve’s eyes burned. “I won’t go anywhere.”

“Steve,” Loki said, turning pleading eyes on him. Steve held his gaze stubbornly, his breathing quick and loud and his heart pounding in his ears.

_“I’m not going anywhere._ And neither are you.”

“If you hold onto me too tightly I will only drag you down,” Loki said, his voice heavy. Steve strode over to him, took Loki’s hands which lay limply in his, then pulled him into another embrace.

“Or maybe I’ll pull you up,” Steve said, closing his eyes and curling his fingers into Loki’s shoulder. “I’m pretty strong, you know. And I’m very stubborn.”

Loki let out a weak, wobbly laugh. “I have noticed.”

“So are you,” Steve said, trying to infuse his voice with strength and certainty. “I know that. So stop – stop pretending you can just give up. The Loki I know never would.”

After a long moment, Loki went limp in Steve’s arms, his head dropping heavily onto Steve’s shoulder as he inhaled a shuddery breath. “I am so tired,” he said, very quietly. “Sometimes, I am just – so tired. And it would be so easy to let go.”

“Don’t,” Steve said, his eyes stinging with tears. “Don’t you _dare._ ”

Loki inhaled deeply and let it out. “I won’t,” he said in a very small voice. “I won’t do that to you.”

_Don’t do it to yourself,_ Steve thought, but just held Loki tighter like he could keep him safe that way. Like he could make everything else go away, even if it was only for a little while.

* * *

Frigga returned too soon, removing Steve by teleportation this time. Loki kissed him before he left, slow and deep. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come back?”

“I am certain,” Loki said, and if Steve wanted to protest he still made himself nod. His chest felt tight and after a brief glance at Frigga he stepped forward and hugged Loki tightly, taking a deep breath of his smell. There were so many things he wanted to say but he was afraid any of them would cut too close to his fears and he didn’t want to cry.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said instead, quietly, and tried to make it a promise. “I love you.”

He felt Loki twitch slightly, but then his hands came up and gripped Steve’s shoulders almost too tightly. “And I you,” he murmured, almost inaudible.

He and Thor and Natasha met in Frigga’s parlor once again, but there was little that was new to say other than trying to organize what they did have and figure out how they were going to argue it all in the limited time they would have. Thor had found mention of a case where an Aesir noble had been accused of treason and banished, and another that seemed to allude to a previous attempt of some Aesir to rule on Midgard, but they were all old and the records were brief and vague.

“I will be going back tonight,” Thor said, “to see if I can find more.” He looked drawn and exhausted, Steve noticed. Worried. Frigga laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

“Thor,” she said, gently. “You will help your brother more if you give yourself the chance to rest. There is still tomorrow.” The lines between her eyebrows, though, seemed deeper than they had been.

Steve went back into his room and fell into the bed, exhausted, but he slept fitfully. He dreamed about Loki dying choking in his cell, Loki jerking at the end of a rope while Thor wept disconsolately and Steve could only stare, helpless, his limbs heavy and immovable. He woke again and again, and after the fifth time he gave up and just lay there with his eyes open until he thought it was an acceptable hour to rise. The light outside his window told him it was still well before sunrise.

He rose and washed himself, though the taps in the bathroom took a bit of fiddling to figure out, before pulling on a fresh set of clothes and letting himself out into the hallway. He picked a direction and started walking, not sure what he planned to do or where he meant to go.

Eventually he stopped one of the servants he saw and asked where the library was. She gave him quick directions before hurrying on her way, and they were easy enough for Steve to follow. Eventually he stood in front of a pair of enormous wooden doors, intricately carved like those of the room where he’d met Odin. Steve simply stood still, looking at them in awe. He tried to picture Loki here – Loki as he might have looked when he was younger, which in Steve’s mind simply meant a slightly rounder face and brighter eyes, lankier limbs that he hadn’t quite grown into. He imagined Loki staring up at the doors, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“You could not sleep?” Steve turned to look over his shoulder and found Thor there, smiling faintly at him. “Nor could I.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. Thor shook his head, eyes sliding away.

“Do not be. I might have asked my mother for a sleeping draught, and I did not. If I am to be unable to rest at least I shall make some use of it.” He smiled wanly. “It is too bad we do not have any coffee.”

“Might help,” Steve agreed. He glanced back at the doors. “The carvings…are they of anything in particular?”

“Stories,” Thor said, his expression going a little wistful. “From our histories and from our myths. These doors are very old. Loki told me once that this library was here when Ymir was licked from the ice.”

“When Ymir-” Steve blinked, recognizing that from the book of Norse myths he’d flipped through at the library back in New York. “Is that real?”

“How do you mean? You do not _really_ think that there was a real single frost giant whose corpse made the world after the first Aesir to awaken killed him?” Thor sounded a bit incredulous, and Steve shook himself.

“I don’t want to assume much of anything.”

“It is metaphor,” Thor said. “And an expression, used to speak of things that are old beyond memory.”

“Oh,” Steve said, feeling a little foolish. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “And is it? That old?”

“The library? No. It was built in the time of Buri, my great grandfather. Well within memory.” Thor smiled, and then hesitated. “Steven…I would like to show you something, if I may.”

Steve gave him a sidelong look. “Show me what?”

Thor hesitated, then simply gestured, turning away from the doors. “This way.”

Steve followed him through the hallways, keeping an eye on Thor’s expression, which was stubbornly determined. It wasn’t too far from the library that he stopped before another door, staring at it for a long moment without saying anything.

“Thor?” Steve said carefully, and he shook himself.

“This is Loki’s room,” Thor said. Steve blinked, startled. “He chose it himself, when we were old enough that we no longer wished to share rooms. To be close to the library. I used to joke that someday he would dig a tunnel through the walls so he could go back and forth without having to see anyone.” Thor smiled a little, and reached for the handle.

“Wait,” Steve said suddenly. “Should we? Isn’t it…I don’t know. Private?”

Thor paused, dropping his hand. “There used to be spells on this door,” he said. “Wards that would sting anyone unwise enough to try to enter without Loki’s permission. I burnt myself more than once, forgetting. After Loki…fell…” Thor swallowed, pain flashing across his face. “—they were gone. It was one of the reasons we thought, assumed, that he’d…”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. Thor shook his head.

“It is no fault of yours. With the wards broken…I came here to sit, to…think. Mother saw to it that it was kept the same. First as a memorial and then…then for the day when Loki would come back home to us.” Thor looked down at the door handle. “I told Loki this, when he was imprisoned after – New York. I hoped that it would make him angry, or that it would make him understand the loss I felt. He said to me that it did not matter; that these rooms were not his anymore. That they belonged to a dead man.” Steve felt a pang in his chest. “Even if – even if that is so, I thought perhaps you might want to see something of Loki’s as it was…before. But if you do not…”

Hadn’t he just been thinking how he wanted just that? And there was a sort of pleading look in Thor’s eyes, too, almost desperate. He wanted to share this, Steve realized. Needed to, maybe.

“All right,” he relented. “I do…I would like to see.”

Thor’s shoulders relaxed and he opened the door, holding it for Steve. He stepped through and onto rich carpeting that he could feel his shoes sink into, keeping moving to let Thor come in after him as he looked around. Everything here was rich, deep colors and fine wood. There were three tall shelves against one wall, each stuffed with books and stacks on the floor in front; the desk nearby was covered in paper and what looked like some kind of gadget, half taken apart. The bed was neatly made, but other than that the impression was very much of a room lived in, where someone had stepped out and might be back any minute. And it felt like Loki. The décor, which ranged from a grotesque red mask hanging on the wall to a beautiful vase sitting on the desk, was clearly his, eclectic but with every sign of a fine eye for craftsmanship. Many of the books on the shelves were weathered and battered, spines creased and bent. There was a large, high backed chair in one corner, and Steve could just picture Loki curled up in it, reading.

In comparison, Steve realized with a jolt, Loki’s suite back at the tower was – bland. Scarcely touched at all. He supposed Loki had had centuries to collect things here, to develop and refine his tastes, but he still found himself looking at it all and thinking where he could find something similar, where he might be able to track down something that would make Loki feel more – at home.

But more than that…something about the haphazardness, the curiosity that the books and papers suggested, the eye for beauty with the art, even the rich textures of the upholstery and carpeting – it made a lump rise in Steve’s throat. It took him a moment to realize why, and it wasn’t just how far all of this was from his own childhood. It all felt…young, and if it was still Loki it was a different Loki, one less closed up and closed off. Less trapped in his own head.

Steve turned to Thor, who was sitting on the bed. He’d picked up something from the bedside table and was fiddling with it, only to set it back down and look up at Steve. “It’s strange,” he said honestly. “Being here.”

Thor nodded. “I felt the same, when I first came here. But now…” Thor rumbled a laugh. “Sometimes it helps, when I am uncertain what to do. I come here and try to imagine how Loki would advise me.”

Steve’s chest ached a little. “It sounds like…you were so close, for such a long time,” he said carefully. “What changed?”

“I do not know,” Thor said, and then shook his head. “No – that is not quite true. I grew proud. Arrogant and short-sighted. I took Loki’s love for granted and resented when he did not follow me without question. And Loki…Loki kept his hurts quiet, things that I would have forgotten, and held onto them until they grew large enough to consume him, so that when he learned…his nature…” Thor trailed off. “He was angry for a long time, I think. Angry and hurt. And let it fester instead of – instead of speaking. Perhaps he feared what I would do; perhaps he thought I would not listen. I do not know.” Thor’s shoulders slumped. “And after…I suspect he thought I would believe as he did. Does. That his blood makes him a monster.”

Steve bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Thor.”

“Things have been better, of late,” Thor said, sounding like he was trying for cheer. “Loki will speak with me, now. And some weeks past he – sought me out.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Steve said, a little surprised. Thor bobbed his head.

“It is, only…” Thor trailed off, and then let out his breath in a whoosh. “I am afraid I am failing him. Again.”

“Thor,” Steve said, but Thor stood up, shaking his head.

“I am sorry. I should not burden you with my fears. I must – I must go back to the library and resume my reading. Would you like to stay here?”

“You’re not burdening me,” Steve said, and while he hesitated it was only for a moment. Being here…it was nice, in a way, but it also felt like it wasn’t his place. Like this wasn’t his Loki. “And actually, if you didn’t mind company, I could try to help you. I need something to do today.” Other than fret.

“I would be grateful for your help, my friend,” Thor said, and if his smile was small it was genuine. “There is much to search through, and I only have two eyes.” He stood up and went back to the door, opening it, and Steve exited Loki’s room, glancing back one more time before Thor shut the door quietly behind them.

* * *

Natasha found them in the library after they’d been there for what Steve guessed was nearly an hour. It was hard to tell, the light limited as it was to glowing orbs rather than any natural sunlight and the whole atmosphere one of immense, almost oppressive age. Of course it turned out that most of the texts were written in runes that Steve could not understand, so the best he could do was fetch books that Thor instructed him and try to page through books for specific sets of runes that Thor wrote down for him.

“Making any headway?” She asked, eyeing the stack of tomes to Thor’s right that had been discarded as useless already, and the dwindling one to his left that he was still going through. Thor said nothing, but Steve just shook his head. His stomach was churning nearly continuously now, and he couldn’t help but think _how many hours left? How much time do we still have?_

“How did you know we were here?” Steve asked. Natasha shrugged.

“Servants notice everything. Especially where the crown prince and weird Midgardian guests go.” Steve blinked at her, and she smiled a little crookedly. “I asked. How are you…both of you…doing?”

Thor glowered at the page he was staring at and shut the book hard, sending a cloud of dust up into his face that made him sneeze. “None of these _vitskertr_ record-keepers write anything useful! All they can prattle about it crop disputes and-”

Steve gave her a wan smile. “I’m doing all right.”

“Pull the other one,” Natasha said dryly, and examined Steve. “You look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin.”

Steve glanced aside. “I didn’t sleep well.”

Natasha glanced at Thor. “What about you, Thor?”

Thor looked like he wished he could take Mjolnir to the book in front of him. “I have been better.”

“We’re a functional bunch,” Natasha said. Thor’s jaw tightened.

“Do not _make light_ of this situation. I know you do not feel kindly toward my brother-”

“Thor,” Natasha interrupted, sounding a little tense, “don’t bite my head off.  I was hoping to lighten the mood. The time of the trial’s been set for tomorrow morning. Apparently,” she added to Steve, “you and me get front row seats.”

“Lucky us,” Steve murmured. Thor looked like he was struggling to take a deep breath.

“I am sorry for snapping at you,” he said, after a moment. “I have not been…at my best, these last days.”

“As far as I’m concerned, that’s completely understandable,” Natasha said. Steve glanced at her and noticed that there was a faint worry line between her eyebrows. Whatever she was projecting, he thought, she was worried about this too. Whatever her reasons.

“Want to sit down?” He offered. “You can help me look at runes and fetch books.”

Natasha gave him a brief, dubious look, then laughed. “Sure, why not.” She sat down. “Knew I should have learned runic alphabets when I had the chance.”

Steve gave her a startled look, half thinking she wasn’t joking, but decided not to ask. Steve opened another book to leaf through and found himself on a page with a lovingly rendered, illumination like artwork of someone being torn limb from limb. Steve just stared at it for a moment, stomach churning more intensely until Natasha slid it out from under his hands and turned the page.

“I’m not sure how productive this is,” she said. Thor’s expression darkened.

“I do not know what would be better. I cannot simply sit idle-”

“Thor! There you are,” said a semi-familiar voice. Steve turned to see the three friends they’d met the other day approaching, along with Sif. They were led by the blond one – Fandral, Steve recalled. His voice rang loudly in the quiet of the library. “Oh – and the Midgardians,” Fandral added. Thor straightened up with a wan smile.

“Hello, my friends.”

“We thought – well, I thought,” Fandral corrected, perhaps at Sif’s sharp sidelong glance. She was eyeing Thor with clear worry. “That it might do you good – the three of you, if you like, Lady Romanova and Captain Rogers – to do something enjoyable. You are looking very grim, Thor, and I do not think any would doubt that you deserve a break.”

Steve glanced at Thor, who looked back at the book open before him. “I am sorry, but I do not think-”

“Thor,” Sif interrupted, “you’ve been in here every free hour of the last four days. Are you going to find anything new now?”

“If there is a chance-”

“Thor,” Hogun interrupted, his voice quiet but firm. “Your determination is admirable, but the chance you will find anything this late is very slim. If you are punishing yourself-”

Thor slammed an open hand loudly on the table. Steve jumped, and Natasha looked like she wanted to. “This is not about me,” he said loudly. “Do you not understand that? This is about Loki, Loki’s _life,_ and you want me to – to go to a _tavern_ and pretend-” He broke off, jaw clenching.

“Not pretend,” Volstagg said. “No one is asking you to pretend, Thor. Just to take a few hours for yourself, with your friends, to unwind. You can come back here right afterwards if you wish. And surely your friends…” He cast a pleading look at Steve and Natasha.

Steve swallowed hard. “I think they might be right, Thor,” he said finally. “Right now…it seems like you’re just getting frustrated. Maybe it would be good to get a breather. Come back with fresh eyes.”

For a moment Thor looked at him like he’d been betrayed, and then his shoulders slumped. “You may be right,” he said heavily. “But if that is so – should not you and Natasha also…”

“Are you inviting us to an alien tavern?” Natasha asked, and then shook her head. “I won’t say no. Could be fun, I guess. Steve?”

Steve hesitated. Despite the advice he’d given Thor, it still felt…disloyal, going out with Thor’s friends when Loki was locked away and facing a trial the next day for his life. Volstagg nudged him, hard enough that Steve had to catch himself on the table. “Come, Steven Rogers! You will not deprive us of your company, will you?”

Steve glanced at Thor and blew out a breath. _What are you doing here, really?_ He asked himself. _You can’t go see Loki, you can’t read any of the books here…are you just going to pace back and forth and worry for the whole day?_

“I guess I can’t,” Steve said, summoning a half-hearted smile and standing up. “Sure, I’ll come with.”

“Right, then,” Fandral said, clapping his hands together and grinning, “We have just the place. Sif has promised not to start any fights…”

“As long as no one starts them with me,” Sif muttered.

“And the barkeep has _no_ sons or daughters that I may have seduced.”

Thor smiled, though it was slight. “I am surprised you managed to find any such place.”

“I can always find one,” Fandral said lightly. “Come then, my fellows, let us away from this dusty prison to merrier locales.”

Thor shook his head. “It is good to see that some things do not change,” he said.

“Even when you wish they would,” Sif added pointedly. Steve hung back as they began to move out of the library, watching the byplays but aware how he didn’t really fit in them and of the old friendship Thor had with these people that he scarcely knew. Thor exchanged a few words with Sif, however, and then dropped back to keep pace with him and Natasha.

“Are you well, my friends?” He asked lowly, seeming worried.

“I’m along for the ride,” Natasha said, though Steve noticed a slight tension to her shoulders and wondered how at ease she was among all these strangers. “I’m guessing the same rule goes here as at the feast, though – don’t touch the alcohol.”

Thor nodded, and then looked to Steve, who smiled faintly. “I’m fine. Just a little…stressed. You know.”

Thor nodded again. “Perhaps this will do us both good, then,” he said, reaching out and clasping Steve’s shoulder briefly.

“Thor!” Fandral called. “What are you and the Midgardians whispering about?”

“Naught, my friend!” Thor said, straightening up and giving Steve and Natasha both a last pat on the shoulder. “Do you fear that we should gossip about you?”

“Why should I fear, when all any could say of me would be praise?” Fandral said. Steve felt his mouth twitch, just a little. Volstagg coughed loudly.

“I believe I have heard a few things, now and again, that might not be called praise. There was that one lady who called you an ill-bred swine…”

“An artist cannot hope to satisfy all,” Fandral said loftily. Sif snorted.

“Isn’t that what you’re supposed to be known for? Satisfying all?”

All of the company laughed at that, Fandral perhaps loudest at all. Steve relaxed slightly, thinking of the Howling Commandos and their easy camaraderie. He let himself smile a little, and tried to push his worry to the background. Later, he told himself. He could think about it later.

“You wound me, Lady Sif,” Fandral said, clutching a hand to his chest.

“If Sif had wounded you,” Hogun said, perfectly deadpan, “you would be bleeding.”

The group of them laughed at that too, almost too loudly. Steve glanced at Natasha, who shrugged. In a way, it was nice, being able to just sit back and let the conversation flow around him. He didn’t have to say anything, be anything, represent anyone, just listen to the familiar chatter of old friends ribbing each other.

The tavern they eventually arrived at was…nicer than Steve had expected. There was a brightly painted sign outside showing an ox with a naked man on its back. He was half tempted to ask, but decided against it, simply filing in after Natasha at the end of the group. They staked out a table ringed by stools in a corner lit by pleasantly warm light, like firelight but without the fire. Steve spent a few moments looking around trying to figure out its source before he sat down between Volstagg and Natasha. The interior was rustic, but it had the air that it was deliberately so, and if the noise level was a busy hum it wasn’t raucous.

One of the wait staff came over, dressed in plain clothes compared to what Steve had seen so far, but they didn’t look bad. Volstagg did a quick headcount. “Seven ales, good madam,” he said authoritatively, “With our thanks.”

She nodded, glancing briefly at Thor – but instead of making the fuss Steve expected, simply moved away. He leaned in. “Do they not recognize you?” He asked.

“Of course they do,” Sif answered. “But since Thor has not announced himself, it would be rude to draw attention to him.”

“Huh,” Steve said. He supposed that was…nice. Sometimes it did get tiring being recognized even out of uniform as Captain America, and that was less common for him since his whole face didn’t show most of the time.

Their waiter came back shortly, setting down a brimming stein of golden, foaming liquid in front of each of them. “Drink up!” Volstagg urged, clapping Steve on the shoulder, and quaffed most of his in one gulp.

“To Thor,” Hogun said, raising his cup, “and his new friends.”

The others chorused it, and after a moment Steve picked up his and took just a cautious sip. Natasha just gave hers a dubious glance and a slight shake of her head. It tasted – not like any beer Steve had ever had. Richer and lighter at the same time. It was good, and it felt like it could go straight to his head. Steve set his cup down quickly and hoped no one noticed if he didn’t drink any more.

“So,” Fandral said, leaning forward, “it is customary to share tales at these sorts of gatherings. Have you any tales of Thor to share?”

“Are you looking for heroic or embarrassing?” Natasha asked, while Steve was still thinking. Thor groaned.

“Either,” Volstagg said agreeably. “Although – has he told you the one about the goats?”

“The one about the goats?” Steve asked, glancing at Thor, who grimaced.

“If that story is to be dragged out again,” he said, though he didn’t sound _too_ displeased, “then I will have to tell Steve and Natasha the story of you and the Alfish maiden.”

Fandral frowned, appearing to be considering. “It is only for the good of your friends, Prince Thor,” he said. “Do you not wish them to know of your noble deeds?”

Thor shook his head. “Ah, very well. If you must. But not you,” he added, just as Fandral looked vindicated. “ _I_ will tell the tale. You always muck it up.” He sat up a little straighter and took a gulp of his ale. “I was a boy, just out of my majority, when I heard about the fire-breathing goats who could not be tamed by any hand. So, naturally,” and here Thor did grin, “I decided to tame them.”

“Oh, no,” Steve said, without meaning to. Sif snickered.

“Oh, yes,” she said. “He was dead set on it. Boasting to anyone who would listen.”

“As though you discouraged me,” Thor shot back. “You told me straight to my face it was impossible.”

“I should’ve known better,” Sif said, directed at Steve and Natasha. “It’s the best way to get him to do anything.”

“At any rate,” Thor said, a little more loudly. “I packed my things and snuck out of the palace – knowing that if anyone saw me undoubtedly I would not be allowed to go. And off I went, to hunt the mighty goats Tanngrisnir and Tanngnóstr.”

It was a good story. Steve laughed at Thor’s wild attempts to capture the goats, increasingly desperate and hair-brained, and let out a sigh of relief when the capture actually worked – only to laugh all over again at Thor’s description of his wild ride being dragged hither and yon by his intended mounts. The Aesir at the table went through two more rounds as Thor told his story, and the mood of the table was jovial, almost relaxed. Even Natasha seemed more at ease, and Sif looked happier than Steve had ever seen her.

After Thor finished his story, then Volstagg launched into a rendition of the story about Fandral and the Elf, which ended in the woman shapeshifting into a swan, causing Fandral to flee naked from his planned seduction. Fandral did not seem particularly bruised by the recounting, even adding a few details of his own. Hogun ordered still another round of drinks, though he at least cut the number down to five, apparently having noticed Steve and Natasha’s abstention.

Thor sat back, looking almost entirely at ease, and there was a momentary lull in the conversation.

“What tales do you have, Captain Rogers?” Hogun asked suddenly, and Steve blinked, taken off guard and not sure how to answer that.

“Uh…I don’t know that I have anything that good.” What popped into his head were stories about Loki, but he realized with a little jolt that no one had so much as said his name through this conversation, and the realization put a slightly sour taste in his mouth.

“The way Thor tells it, life on Midgard is very eventful,” Volstagg said. “Surely you have some story you can share?”

“I don’t really,” Steve started to say, and then trailed off, suddenly aware that Thor was frowning, his gaze directed not at anyone at the table but over to the left. He turned to glance over and saw a pair of men talking a few tables away.

“…ever talk to the second-prince?” Steve heard, just a snatch of conversation, and saw Thor across the table stiffen.

“Me? No. Always made me nervous, though. Had that look in his eyes, and you know what they say-”

Thor stood up, his stool scraping back loudly. “Thor,” Steve said quietly, but Thor stepped away from the table, eyes fixed on the two men.

“You,” he said, voice like a rumble of thunder, and they both stopped talking and turned. Their faces went pale. The bar went silent. Thor’s hands were clenched into fists. “Do not stop talking on my account. I would hear what _they say_ about my brother.” Steve could practically feel the pressure building in the room and he and Sif stood at the same time.

“My prince,” one of them said, apparently overcoming his nerves. “I meant no disrespect to you or your family-”

“Did you not?” Thor said, and took a step forward. Sif grabbed one of his arms and Steve the other, his heart suddenly pounding.

“Thor,” Sif said, her voice low. “Outside.” Thor turned to her and just – growled. Sif did not even flinch, just stared back at him, her fingers not loosening an inch. “It does Loki no good for you to make a scene here,” she said, “nor are they worthy of your rage.”

“Show me the ones who are,” Thor said, his voice thick, “and I will hit _them._ ”

“Thor,” Sif said, this time almost scoldingly, and he jerked his arm out of her grip.

“I’ll go with you,” Steve said quickly, but Thor only grunted and pulled away from him as well, stalking back out the front door. He glanced to Sif, who nodded, and then hurried out after his friend.

He found Thor standing immediately outside, his shoulders hunched. He looked furious and exhausted at once, and Steve reached out tentatively to lay a hand on one of his shoulders, hoping to offer comfort.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” he said. Thor’s mouth twisted unhappily.

“I wonder now,” Thor said suddenly, “if they always spoke of Loki thus and I simply did not hear, or if they change their perceptions with the fickle winds of politics. And even if – I cannot say Loki did not bring their distrust on himself. And yet I am still angry.”

“Let’s walk a bit,” Steve said, after a moment, and they started down one of the streets, still well lit but mostly empty. Thor trudged along, his head drooping, and Steve stayed close beside him.

“Even before…before all of this,” Thor said, after several moments, “Loki did not make himself easy to love. And I fear that now…that will be his downfall. And I let it be so. Should I have tried harder to – make others see Loki differently? Or to make Loki behave differently?”

“I think,” Steve said gently, “we’d all drive ourselves crazy if we let ourselves think too much about might-have-beens.”

“I suppose.” Thor sighed, long and loud, and Steve hesitated, his stomach churning.

“Thor…” he cleared his throat. “Have you…thought about what we’ll do tomorrow, if things…if things don’t go well?”

“If Loki is condemned to die?” Thor said, and Steve made himself nod. “I have…I have thought on it. I do not wish to even consider…but I have, and I believe that we may be able to fight our way out, if it is necessary. Loki knows places that can be used to travel between worlds…as does Frigga, if…if need be.”

_If Loki refuses,_ Steve thought, and made himself nod. “You’d…that’s what you’d want to do? Even knowing what it would mean – for you, for your life…”

“Yes,” Thor said, his voice sober and clear. “I meant it when I said it on Midgard. I do not care for the throne if my brother is to be its cost.”

“And…” Steve hesitated. “What about what Loki wants? If he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life running and hiding…”

Thor looked like he was about to cry. “I cannot – I _will not_ watch Loki die. Not again. If he wishes to stand and fight then I will stand and fight as well.” He seemed to realize something, suddenly, and looked at Steve, brows furrowing. “But you, my friend-”

Steve squeezed his eyes closed and breathed out, long and loud. “I’ll do whatever I can to keep Loki safe. But Natasha…she didn’t commit to that.”

“Yet I do not believe she would let us fight without her,” Thor said. Steve pictured that, the four of them against Asgard. Maybe seven, if they did get back to Earth – but could he really put a planet in the kind of danger a fight like that might entail? No, they’d have to go somewhere else, somewhere far away.

He thought of Loki saying _I will not be responsible for your heroic death_ and wondered if he and Thor would be able to keep Loki from self-destructing if he thought it was for their own good. Steve closed his eyes.

“Let’s…let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said a little weakly. Thor slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Yes,” he said, heavy and solemn. “I hope it will not.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trial day arrives.

Steve didn’t sleep. Couldn’t sleep. After returning from the tavern in subdued spirits following Thor’s outburst, he and Thor and Natasha convened. They spent much of the rest of the day discussing strategy and planning their moves for the trial the following day until Natasha called a halt. Thor looked like he wanted to protest and changed his mind, and Steve _was_ exhausted, but when he got back to his room and laid down all he could do was think, mind whirling in circles. What if things went badly, what if Loki was condemned to die and they had to try to find a way to get him out of Asgard safely? What if there wasn’t a way, what if-

Ultimately, Steve fished _To Kill a Mockingbird_ out of his bag (rereading for the third time) and read through the night instead of sleeping. He hoped Loki would get some rest, and wished again that he could go and see him, hold him. Not just for Loki’s reassurance but for his.

There was a soft knock at his door well before it was light. Steve got up and paced over at once, heart suddenly pounding, but it was Natasha standing there. She gave him a little smile. “Hey. Can I come in?”

Steve was glad he hadn’t really stripped down to sleep, and stepped back. “Sure – of course. Is something the matter?”

“Not really. Just wanted to check in.” Natasha padded over to the chair in one corner and sat down on it, drawing her knees up to her chest in a way that made her look substantially younger than usual. “How’re you holding up?”

Steve tried to smile. It felt tight. “I’ve been worse.”

“You’ve been frozen for seventy years,” Natasha said dryly. “That’s not saying much.”

Steve glanced away and after a moment sat down on the bed. “What do you want me to say?” He asked. “I’m worried. Of course. This isn’t exactly something I have a lot of experience with, and a lot is riding on me – us. I can do my best and there’s every possibility it won’t make any difference.” He heard the frustration in his own voice mounting and took a deep breath, letting it out through his nose. “Sorry. I don’t want to bite your head off.”

“You’re not.” Natasha cocked her head a fraction to the side. “You’ve been doing that thing, haven’t you, where you have to hold it together for everyone. Thor and Loki, and when it’s not either of them you have to play diplomat for the entire Earth in a place that, frankly, doesn’t seem to think much of us.”

“That’s the case for you, too,” Steve pointed out, but she shook her head.

“What’s Loki to me? I don’t have the same amount on the line as either you or Thor. That’s part of why I’m here. You needed an objective observer.” She paused, and added, “And we needed to get some real, unfiltered knowledge of Asgard.”

Natasha’s words stung, a little, but he tried to push it down. He couldn’t say that was unfair. He knew Loki wasn’t…that the rest of the team didn’t see him the same way Thor and now Steve did, could. And if he wished he could change that… “What’s your point,” he said, aware that it came out sounding a little rude.

“Just that…sorry. I get focused on the mission sometimes, and I haven’t been looking out for you like I could have.” Natasha rested her chin on her knees. “You’re not used to situations you can’t control, are you?”

“That’s not true,” Steve objected. “Most of the situations we get into are things I can’t control. But usually…” He trailed off, and shook his head. “It’s different. I’m not used to feeling quite this…helpless.”

“You’re not helpless,” Natasha said. “We’ve got some good weapons on our side.”

“I know,” Steve said, squeezing his eyes shut. “And I don’t mean to sound like I’m doubting you. I’m just…doubting. And if – what if it does go badly? What if…”

Natasha’s eyes stayed fixed on him. “Then we’ll go from there. I’ve been…talking. With Sif and Frigga and a couple of others.” Steve stared at her, and she gave him a small smile. “What? I never hang everything on one plan.”

“Going against Asgard like that-” Steve started to say. Natasha shook her head.

“I’ve already done the calculations, Steve. I did them before we got here. It’ll be messy, sure, but…”

“You just said it, though,” Steve said, feeling bewildered. “What is Loki to you?”

“Sure,” Natasha said, dropping her feet to the floor and sitting up straight, “not much. I still don’t trust him, though it’s certainly interesting that he chose to do this even though he must’ve known at least you and Thor would stick up for him if he didn’t. But you, and Thor – you’re…” She cleared her throat. “The Avengers are the closest thing I’ve got to family.”

Steve half wanted to reach out and hug her, but he had a feeling it would be rebuffed. “Natasha…”

“And besides,” she added quickly, “I’d sooner not see power move away from Thor’s family. I have a feeling anyone else would be a lot less benevolent towards the puny earthlings.”

Steve glanced down at his hands to hide his smile, though it felt small and weak. “Yeah. Is there anything I should know about…the contingency plan?”

“No,” Natasha said promptly. “Plausible deniability, Captain. You’re here representing humanity. While everyone’s looking at you, most people aren’t looking at me. And if they do – well, I’m a spy.” Her smile was a little sharp. “Their fault for not doing their research before letting me in.”

Steve did let himself smile at her at that. “Natasha…thank you. You’re a good friend. Really.”

Natasha gave him a crooked looking smile. “Aww, Steve. That’ll go right to my pretty little head.”

“There’s nothing little about your head,” Steve said. Natasha just smirked at him and leaned back in the chair.

“You know…funny thing,” she said, sounding thoughtful. “Being here…it makes me pretty impressed with Thor. I don’t know what he was like when he first came to Earth – or even what he was like when he was banished there in 2011 – but as far as I can tell he’s a lot more open-minded than most of his people are. And that’s…is it weird to say I’m proud of a nearly immortal deity?”

“Maybe a little,” Steve said, but Natasha shrugged.

“Whatever. I still am.”

Steve thought of the conversation he’d had with Thor, about Asgard. “Maybe you should tell him that.”

“Oh, no,” Natasha said with a laugh. “I don’t think so. That _would_ be weird. I’m pretty sure Thor still doesn’t know quite what to do with me.” Natasha dropped her head back and looked down her nose at Steve. “So, if you’re not sleeping…I brought cards.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to sleep?”

“Hell no,” Natasha said. “I never sleep the night before an op. Throws me off my game. How about it, Rogers? A few intense rounds of Old Maid?”

Steve shook his head, but with a smile. “All right, Agent Romanoff. I can’t turn down a challenge.” He got off the bed and sat on the floor. “You deal.”

* * *

They gave up playing when it started to get light out and Steve couldn’t stop twitching. As Natasha sat on the floor and idly shuffled the deck, Steve paced the length of the room, going over and over the arguments, trying to think of every counterargument that could possibly be made. He wondered where Loki was and what he was doing; where Thor was. Natasha didn’t try to talk him down, just watched him with sympathy. At some point he went into the bathroom and changed into more formal clothing; Natasha left and came back in a blouse and blazer.

It felt like an eternity before the knock came on the door. Steve jumped to his feet and hastened over to the door, opening it. One of the palace guard was standing there, and for a panicky moment Steve thought something had gone wrong.

“I am here to escort you to Glaðsheim,” the guard said, and though his gaze flicked briefly to Natasha he did not seem perturbed by her presence. Steve still felt his face warm, absurd as it was, and pushed down the urge to say something to correct an assumption that likely wasn’t even being made. “The trial is set to begin soon.”

“Glathsheim?” Steve said blankly, stumbling a little over the pronunciation.

“The Hall of Judgment,” the guard said, “where all cases are heard. Are you ready to depart?”

“Yes,” Steve said, with a quick glance at Natasha. “We both are, but Thor – I mean, the crown prince?”

That time the guard did give him a strange look. “Has been seated for some time, now. I do not wish to rush you, however…”

“Right, yes,” Steve said, and turned to Natasha, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s go?”

“This…Glaðsheim,” Natasha said, and she sounded like the pronunciation was giving her no trouble. “It isn’t…far, is it?”

“Not at all,” the guard said. “It is located in the east wing of the palace. Follow me, please.” The guard turned. Steve followed after.

“What a relief,” Natasha murmured to him, under her breath. “I was worried it would be another Bifrost trip, and I don’t really want to do that this morning.”

“Why would it be that far?” Steve asked. Natasha shrugged.

“Who knows? Neutral ground, maybe? No one said it was a rational worry.”

Steve’s stomach was churning with his own worries, and he hoped it didn’t show too much on his face. The halls seemed eerily quiet, and Steve wondered what the trial was going to look like. He hadn’t really been to any even on Earth, let alone on an alien world.

“So,” Natasha said eventually, raising her voice when the guard showed no sign of breaking the silence. “Who is going to be there? The Council, of course, the royal family…”

“Asgard’s courts are open to all,” the guard said. “Many have come, both from the nobility and the common people. The hall will be crowded today.” Steve felt his stomach lurch, wondering what they were hoping to see. If they were expecting a spectacle…he remembered reading about public executions, some of them in the papers before the war, and Steve wondered if Asgard still…

Natasha squeezed his arm, and Steve realized that his fists were clenched. He forced them to loosen. “Are we going to have trouble getting seats?”

“No,” the guard said promptly. “You are expected to be witnesses and speakers, and seats have been saved for you.” They turned into a narrow hallway and the guard indicated a surprisingly small door. “You will enter through this side door to avoid the press of people. Another Einherjar within will escort you to your place.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, though his throat felt tight. The guard bowed and opened the door.

There was a narrow hallway behind it, and another door at the end. As they walked down it, the sound of voices became louder and more distinct with every step, and when they opened the second door the noise was almost loud enough to make Steve physically flinch.

Natasha gave him a little push, though, and he stepped through. The hall was vast, like the throne room with high vaulted ceilings and pillars on either side, and it was absolutely packed with people. Steve turned in a semicircle and found the front of the room. On a slightly raised dais were twelve high backed seats, all occupied by men and women dressed in elaborate robes. In the middle were three other seats, raised slightly above. Odin sat in the center, his enormous spear in one hand. Frigga was to his right and Thor was to his left.

“Captain Steven Rogers and Lady Natasha Romanoff?” Steve looked quickly away from trying to catch Thor’s eye and toward another guard, who bowed deeply. He looked, Steve noticed, very young. “This way, please.”

He let them to a row of seats near the front and gestured. There were two open seats near the center aisle, with Sif on one side and the Warriors Three on the other. Steve and Natasha picked their way over Thor’s friends and sat down, Natasha next to Sif and Steve next to Volstagg. Once he was seated, Steve resumed his survey of the hall, looking for Loki. He didn’t see him, but in front of them, in the middle of the room between the seats and the Council, was a single, simple chair, unoccupied. Steve stared at it, nausea rising up the back of his throat again.

He forced his eyes to move to Thor, who looked a little pale but stubbornly determined. Thor seemed to feel him looking and shifted, his eyes catching Steve’s and giving him the smallest, briefest smile. Steve’s heart was pounding in his ears. _Where’s Loki,_ he wanted to ask Volstagg, but he had a feeling this was part of the point. It was pageantry, plain and simple.

A little bit of anger leaked in to mingle with the unease. He shifted, glancing over his shoulder and then back to the chairs. He recognized some of the Council members – Njörd, Sjöfn, Hretha, Bragi – but most of them he was at a loss. Sjöfn was talking quietly to the red-haired man sitting next to her. Njörd was sitting tall, and Steve thought his expression might have been barely restrained eagerness.

He stood, suddenly. His voice rang out loud and clear even in this enormous hall, and Steve imagined it had to be augmented somehow. “I, Speaker for the Council of Twelve, call for this trial to begin.”

The talk in the hall died down quickly, only to vanish entirely as Odin stood. “The All-Father affirms,” he said. “Let the prisoner be brought forth.”

Steve heard the sound of the doors being opened and the quiet jingle of chains. He took a deep breath before turning his head.

There were four guards, two on either side of Loki and another two just behind, all in gleaming armor. Loki himself wore simple clothing, a green tunic, and plain black pants. His hair was sleek and gleaming, so he’d been allowed to wash, and if he looked pale there was no sign of any emotion on his face. His chin was high and he looked the very picture of regality. Steve almost winced, half wishing he could look a little more contrite.

The image was spoiled, however, by the heavy manacles locked around his wrists, the same that had been put on him when he’d first arrived. The muzzle, at least, was gone, but around his neck was a gleaming gold collar, too obvious to be mistaken for jewelry.

Steve let his fingers dig into his leg and couldn’t really blame Loki for holding onto what pride he could. He could hear low murmuring spread through the hall as Loki was paraded up the aisle, and did not think he imagined the hostile note in it. Not universal, he was sure, but nonetheless…

The two guards behind Loki planted their hands on his shoulders and pushed him down into the chair. He didn’t resist, at least not visibly, but when they stepped back Steve heard a faint hum and saw slim, shimmering ropes appear seemingly from nowhere, binding Loki’s arms to the back of the chair and his feet to its legs.

Loki did not even twitch, though Steve did. “Is that really necessary,” he murmured. Volstagg glanced at him, but he did not seem to be judging.

“Loki is a powerful sorcerer,” he said, voice low though not quite as low as Steve would have liked. “They fear he will try to escape. Some few have broken the bindings and fled using _seiðr_ before.”

 _If he was going to escape wouldn’t he have done it by now,_ Steve thought, but held his tongue and wished he could communicate some kind of support. “Will the Council enumerate the charges?” Odin said, and the low murmuring in the hall died down at once.

“I will do so,” Njörd said. “Loki Odinson who stands in Glaðsheim this day stands accused of the following crimes: treason, attempted fratricide, attempted patricide, attempted regicide, malignant destruction on realms other than Asgard including Jotunheim and Midgard, and breaking his imprisonment.” Steve expected some kind of question when Njörd paused – _does the accused accept these charges_ , maybe, but Njörd was silent, letting the charges, grim as they were, hang in the air. After a long moment, he sat back down, and said simply, “the trial will commence. The Council calls its first witness.”

On the other side of the aisle dividing the hall, a guardsman stood. He hesitated a moment. One of the other Councilmembers – Steve didn’t recognize him – leaned forward. “State your name, Einherjar.”

“I am called Ingvar Skufison. I was one of the guard that found Prince – the accused in the vault before he was crowned.”

“And?” Hretha’s voice was sharp, no-nonsense. “Go on, boy. Speak your testimony.”

The guard, Ingvar, cleared his throat and straightened. “We were summoned by the – by Loki Odinson’s shouting for help. When I arrived, the All-Father had already fallen into the Odinsleep. He appeared to be unharmed. The accused was startled and-” The guard paused a moment, then added, “and shaken.”

“This was an unexpected occurrence,” Njörd said, “was it not?”

“It was,” Ingvar said. “We had not expected…but it had been a tumultuous few days.”

“Is there any possibility that the Allfather’s unexpected…removal could have been planned?”

“That’s a leading question,” Steve hissed to Natasha. “Isn’t it? Can he just-?” But no one seemed to be objecting.

“I…suppose,” the guard said, though he looked dubious. “I do not judge that it was, however, my lord.”

“Are you familiar with the magical ability of the accused, Ingvar Skufison?” Njörd said, his voice mild. Ingvar nodded, and Njörd went on. “Is there a possibility that the startlement you described might have been feigned?”

“I…yes, it may have been.” The guard seemed nervous, fidgety, his eyes darting toward the seats of the royal family. “But I could not say.” Njörd nodded and sat back with a dismissive twitch of his hand. “Has any of the assembly further questions to ask?”

“Anyone?” Steve turned to ask Volstagg, but Thor’s large friend was already on his feet.

“Ingvar Skufison,” he said, “let me be clear – when you entered the vault, the All-Father and his son were alone, yes?”

Ingvar hesitated again, but nodded, looking a little more sure. “That is so.”

“And aught that transpired between them, you were not witness to?”

“None were,” Ingvar said. Volstagg nodded.

“So any supposition about events before you entered would be mere speculation, is that not so?”

Ingvar’s chin lifted slightly, Steve thought. “That is also so.”

“Thank you, Ingvar Skufison,” Volstagg said, and sat down once more. Steve glanced at him, a little surprised, but Volstagg did not acknowledge it and after a moment Steve looked back at Ingvar. A few others asked questions of him – someone inquired if anything had seemed out of order or strange, to which Ingvar had answered no more than would be explained by the sudden oncoming of the Odinsleep, unlooked for.

Finally, he was allowed to sit. Njörd’s next witnesses followed the same pattern; a few other guards who described Loki’s coronation by Frigga and the attack on the All-Father by frost giants. Njörd didn’t seem to want to accuse – he insinuated, suggested. “It’s smart,” Natasha murmured. “He doesn’t need to convince most people that Loki’s guilty, after all. The fact that he was tried once before and convicted is enough to prove that. But he can make it look worse, and at the same time insinuate that Odin hasn’t had control for years. Slimy bastard. But smart.” Steve stayed seated, though once or twice he was tempted to get up and say something. Natasha’s hand on his leg forestalled him.

The first murmur of surprise came with Njörd’s third witness. Heimdall stood, and the crowd murmured.

“All-seeing gatekeeper,” Njörd said, all politeness. “Would you describe the events you witnessed on Midgard, immediately before the return of Prince Thor to the Realm Eternal?”

“Wait,” Steve said, leaning forward. “Couldn’t he just tell the whole thing?”

Volstagg shook his head. “Perhaps – but it is known that Loki is able to hide himself from Heimdall’s sight if he wishes. His testimony concerning Loki’s own actions thus might be suspect.”

“The Destroyer was sent from Asgard’s vaults to a small town in a Midgardian desert.” Heimdall’s voice was bland, and Steve wondered briefly if he was here who was watching the gates. He supposed that all-seeing meant all-seeing, though, and maybe he could still watch from here.

“Who sent the Destroyer?” Steve recognized Bragi, the man who’d spoken at the feast.

“Only the King of Asgard who wields Gungnir may command the Destroyer,” Heimdall said. “At that time, Loki Odinson held the throne.”

“Can you say why the accused would send a weapon of Asgard against Midgard – against the very town where the crown prince had been exiled?” Njörd again. Steve was really starting to hate the sound of that guy’s voice.

“It is not given to me to know anyone’s mind unless they should tell me,” Heimdall said, and Steve thought he caught a trace of annoyance in that bland voice. “No. I cannot say. You asked me what I saw, Speaker, not what I believe.”

Steve fought the urge to smile, knowing it would be inappropriate, and equally knowing…he hadn’t heard this story before, not in full, but he knew where it was headed.

“Go on, then,” Njörd said, after a moment, and he sounded a little annoyed too.

“The Destroyer attacked mortals on Midgard that attempted to confront it. From thence it journeyed to the small town known as Puente Antiguo, where Prince Thor and his companions were. It caused much damage to the town before Prince Thor confronted it directed. He addressed his brother, claiming that any grievance should be directed solely against him.” Heimdall paused, for just a moment. “The Destroyer struck out at Thor. As he was in mortal form by the terms of his exile, he was…gravely injured.”

Killed, Steve had heard. He glanced at Loki and wondered if he was imagining the new tight set to his shoulders. This couldn’t be easy, he thought, reliving…everything.

“At that moment,” Heimdall went on, “the terms of his banishment fulfilled, Prince Thor regained his strength and was able to overcome the Destroyer.”

Thor was on his feet even before Njörd asked if there were further questions, apparently no longer able to hold himself back. “Heimdall,” he said loudly. “You mentioned that I spoke to my – to Loki. Do you recall my exact words?”

“I do,” Heimdall said, his voice grave. “You said, ‘Brother, however I have wronged you, whatever I have done that has led you to do this, I am truly sorry. But these people are innocent, taking their lives will gain you nothing. So take mine, and end this.’”

“According to the law code set down by my grandsire Bor,” Thor said, sounding triumphant, “my words were sufficient to invoke a right of _holmgang_. Within that challenge, Loki was permitted to claim retribution against me for wrongs I had committed.” His expression was fierce. “Is that not so?”

Heimdall said nothing, turning to the Council. Hretha stirred. “That is so,” she said, giving Thor a thoughtful look. “Though it can hardly be called a duel of equals, with you mortal and the accused using the Destroyer.”

“And yet I defeated the Destroyer,” Thor said stubbornly. “As Heimdall has said. Any injury I suffered within that battle is my concern and no concern of this court. I have never accused Loki of any harm to me, and I ask the Council – humbly – that the charge of attempted fratricide be dropped.” He sat back down. Steve could hear murmuring behind him, a mixture of uneasiness and curiosity.

“It is a fair point,” said one of the Councilors, sitting far on the left side. Based on the look of his features, Steve thought it might be Frey. “If the supposed victim does not wish to make a claim, we have no grounds to prosecute it.”

Njörd’s expression looked briefly sour. “Very well, then. That… _particular_ charge may be stricken from the prisoner’s record. Are there any _further_ questions of Heimdall?” The murmuring continued, but no questions were raised, and Heimdall took his seat once more. Thor looked like he was trying not to smile, and Steve felt his first little sprig of hope.

* * *

More witnesses were called. Thor described his struggle with Loki on the Bifrost, though based on his words it sounded like little more than a scuffle that had gotten slightly out of hand. Njörd let the skepticism drip from his words as he pressed for more information, on what Loki had said of his intentions, why he should fight the rightful heir upon his joyous return, and Thor dodged or half answered all of them. Steve wasn’t sure if it helped or hurt.

One nobleman stood and spoke of the devastation of Jotunheim and the difficulty that had arisen in relations between them and Asgard after Loki’s attack. Hogun stood and pointed out in his quiet voice that tensions between Asgard and Jotunheim had been riding high for years, and that they were scarcely friendly by any stretch of the imagination. A stranger – a woman back in the crowd – asked if Lord Vilderson still made his living in weapons craft specifically designed for harsh conditions.

He sat down hastily after that.

Finally, Njörd called on Steve and Natasha. “After his fall,” Njörd said, “it was believed that the accused had perished. However, he reemerged on the Realm of our allies in Midgard, attacking them most foully with a force of bestial creatures from the deeps of space. All know the tale of the bravery of Thor and Midgard’s Avengers in that battle – but perhaps our esteemed guests would do us the honor of speaking in more detail?”

Natasha spoke first. She described Loki’s arrival in the SHIELD base via the Tesseract, his initial attack and flight. She left out, Steve noted, a description of what Loki had done to Clint and the others, saying only that he’d taken prisoners, and did not describe Loki taking the Tesseract as a theft. Steve supposed the latter was because it might technically belong to Asgard. He hoped they took better care of it, this time.

Steve took over from the attack on Germany. He’d decided not to take Thor’s route, instead choosing plain, straightforward language like he might have in a report. Not minimizing, but not embellishing either, just stating events as truthfully as he could. He described Thor’s sudden arrival, landing on the helicarrier and the disaster that ensued. Natasha closed with a brief description of the battle in New York, and then paused. She glanced at Steve, and after a moment went on.

“None of us saw Loki again until maybe a year later, when he arrived in our – hm, base of operations severely wounded. Captain Rogers took him into custody then. I am curious to know what kind of damage was incurred during Loki’s escape from your prison.”

Steve felt a sudden flash of understanding, and could have kissed Natasha. Why hadn’t he thought of that? There was quiet for a moment, and then one of the guard a row behind them stood.

“At the time of the accused’s escape, the guard was…elsewhere. I do not know of any wounds that would have been inflicted. Did he say…”

“He claimed,” Steve said, hoping Loki would forgive him for saying this, “that he was being pursued, not solely by Asgard. He implied but did not state outright that the Chitauri were among his pursuers.” Steve glanced toward the council and saw the one he thought was Frey leaning forward, looking curious.

“I have heard nothing of this,” he said. “What are you suggesting?”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s possible, of course, that such pursuit is simply the normal reaction of the Chitauri to a failed military campaign. It is also, however, possible that the accused’s participation in the attack on Earth – Midgard – was at least partially coerced, and certain testimony from others who could not be present at this hearing corroborates that possibility. Most likely it is irrelevant. But it seemed interesting to me.”

Steve glanced toward Loki, like he could read something in his spine. He couldn’t tell anything, though he looked very still.

“Are there any further questions?” Njörd’s voice sounded tight. Steve wondered if he’d expected them to be his star witnesses. Performing Earth monkeys.

“I have,” said a voice from the crowd behind. Steve tried to look over his shoulder, but he couldn’t see who it might be. “I understand that you have had Loki Odinson in your charge for some time now. Why would you not choose to send him back to Asgard once more?”

Steve hesitated, but ultimately told the truth. “Loki came to the Avengers and asked for sanctuary,” he said. “Because there was no standing request from Asgard that we knew of, we decided that our judgment took precedence and granted his request. He has not caused trouble and been helpful on a number of occasions.” All right, maybe that was stretching it a bit, but Steve had heard a lot of stretching during this trial.

“Are you saying that you trust your former enemy?” That was Bragi again, and Steve felt himself tense. Natasha answered.

“No,” she said easily. “But not trusting someone doesn’t mean they can’t be useful.” Steve looked down, knowing it was a good answer and still not liking to hear it.

No further questions were forthcoming. They sat down, and Steve realized belatedly that he was shaking. Natasha patted him soothingly on the shoulder and he gave her a weak smile. “I didn’t think of that,” he whispered. “About the Chitauri, and Loki.”

Natasha shrugged. “It might not work, but I thought it would be worth a try.”

“Thank you,” Steve said earnestly, but she just shook her head, focusing forward.

“Now what,” she asked Sif lowly. Sif grimaced and gestured toward the front. Njörd was standing.

“The witnesses have been called,” he said, and if he looked a bit less eager than he had he seemed no less sure of himself. “The crimes of this traitor are clear. He has acted with perfidy and treachery, and by his schemes brought harm upon three realms – Asgard, and two of her protectorates, Midgard and Jotunheim. Once before was he brought before the law and judged guilty – but escaping, he flung himself on the mercy of Midgard in order to hide from due justice. Once called prince of Asgard, he sits before you guilty of heinous crimes that have damaged the name of Asgard itself.” He paused, and then raised his voice. “Do any wish to speak in the prisoner’s defense?”

Steve steeled himself. Now was their chance. Thor would stand and say his piece, and then Steve, and they would just have to hope…

“I do.”

Sif stood, her head held high. Steve stared at her, entirely taken aback, and then looked to Thor to see if he had expected this. He looked equally surprised.

“Lady Sif Bolverkrsdottir,” Njörd said, sounding wary. “You may speak.”

“It is no secret that I bear Loki Odinson no small amount of grievance,” Sif said, her voice plain. “But nonetheless my honor will not permit me to see a breach of justice and say nothing. When Loki attacked Midgard with the Destroyer, there were, in fact, four traitors to Asgard’s king on its soil.”

Sif’s back was stiff and straight, unyielding. “While Loki ruled Asgard, at my urging myself and three companions left Asgard against the direct order of its king to pursue one who was exiled at the word of Odin All-Father. That act was disobedience at best, and treason at worst. And yet Loki has made no mention of this at any point. In so doing, he has protected my honor. And so…” Sif’s mouth twisted. “I do not believe that at any time has Loki acted against Asgard with malice. I do not believe he intended to kill Odin All-Father. Of his attack on Midgard I can say nothing, but I can with certainty say that while I would call Loki many things, most of them not complimentary, I would not name him a traitor.”

She sat down. The murmuring was much louder now, though it died down a little as Fandral stood.

“I would like to add,” Fandral said, “that prior to his coronation, on a certain journey to Jotunheim, I witnessed Loki Odinson attempt several times to turn Prince Thor away from his determined course, an action that precipitated renewed war with Jotunheim.”

Steve wondered what Loki was thinking. Fandral sat back down and Thor stood. “I would speak,” he said.

Silence fell again. Hretha’s eyes narrowed. “Your bias is well known, Prince Thor, if you will forgive my saying so.”

“My bias may be,” Thor said, “but I do not speak with only my emotions to guide me. I have consulted the laws of Asgard and it is to them I look when I speak.” Thor waited, and after a long moment Hretha sat back. Njörd, to Steve’s unease, did not look concerned.

“During the reign of Buri, father of Bor father of Odin,” Thor said, his voice steady and no sign of nerves in his bearing. “It came to pass that Bor, Buri’s heir, was accused of treason. He had acted decisively to end an uprising that had occurred on a nearby estate, and executed the nobleman responsible.” Thor paused. “At the time of the judgment, Buri All-Father was in the restorative sleep of Asgard’s rulers, and Bor wielded his power as his heir. Thus it was judged that while the sentence had been harsh, it could not have been treason, as he acted with the right and authority of the All-Father of Asgard.” Thor took a deep breath. “During much of the events that have been recounted today, Loki Odinson held Gungnir as Odin’s heir, since I was banished. The All-Mother might have ruled, but chose of her own will to pass power to Loki. Thus, from the time of Loki’s coronation to the time of the All-Father’s awaking, Loki acted as rightful ruler of Asgard, and none of the decisions he made fell outside of Aesir law for the power given to he who holds Asgard’s kingship.”

Thor appeared to be gathering momentum. “Then there is the matter of Loki’s attack on Jotunheim using the Bifrost. I must ask – if Loki is to be charged with malignant destruction of that realm, then I should be also. I, too, wished to destroy that realm, and killed many in my attack upon them.” Thor took a deep breath. “When Loki turned the Bifrost on Jotunheim, we were at war, and King Laufey had attacked the All-Father in his sleep. Loki retaliated, as was within his right as regent. I find his actions then abhorrent, but they were not unlawful.

“For Loki’s crimes against Midgard…I can offer no excuse, nor will I, save to say that perhaps it is not the task of Asgard’s courts to judge on behalf of Midgard, when they are capable of judging for themselves.” Thor paused once again, and added, “it is true: Loki is my brother. But that alone is not reason for clemency. Odin All-Father, in his wisdom, saw fit to withhold harsher justice before, if eternal imprisonment can truly be called less harsh. Justice is not always the same thing as a lack of mercy.” Thor sat down. In the sake of his words, it was very quiet.

Steve swallowed hard past the lump in his throat, and stood.

“It might seem strange-” His voice sounded small and strangled. Steve cleared his throat and tried again. “It might seem strange that I’d be speaking on behalf of someone who attacked my planet and hurt a lot of my people. But that’s not…I don’t believe in the death penalty. For anyone. I think that people should always – _always –_ have a chance to make up for what they did. To change. I think the same thing is true for Loki.” Steve took a deep breath. This was the real gamble. “I appreciate that Asgard is worried about Earth – about Midgard. But we understand that Loki doesn’t represent Asgard or its intentions, and like Thor said, we have our own system in place for dealing with criminals.” Not that Loki was going to get involved in that system, but still. “If the main charge – and the worst, it seems to me – is what Loki did on Midgard, then let us deal with him. Like we have been. We’re not a protectorate of Asgard; we’re our own realm. Return Loki to our custody and let us judge for ourselves.” His legs shaking, he sat down. He wanted to say more, wanted to say _sure, Loki’s caused a lot of harm but that’s not all he is, that’s not all he can be,_ wanted to say _you can’t have him because he’s mine and I promised to keep him safe._

He didn’t say either of those things, just folded his hands in his lap and prayed.

Njörd stood slowly. “Are there any further words to be said on behalf of the accused?” He asked, and Steve wondered if he imagined the tension in his voice.

No one else rose. Steve glanced at Frigga, but she was immobile, her expression set, and Steve supposed maybe she couldn’t be too openly partisan. At least not as freely as Thor.

“Very well, then,” said Njörd. “You have heard, Asgard, of what this prisoner is accused. For his deeds, I ask the Council for the sentence of death. This man is a threat to the safety and security of the Golden Realm. Let her be rid of him, once and for all. This is my proposal to the Council. Is it accepted?”

Steve held his breath, the nails of his right hand digging into his palm. He caught a movement and saw Oidn stir and stand.

“Allow me,” Odin said, “to make an alternate suggestion.”

“You already had your chance, All-Father,” Njörd said. “And since your lenient punishment was ineffective, the laws allow-”

“The Council of Twelve to conduct their own sentencing,” Odin completed smoothly. “That is so. But the laws do not forbid the All-Father from proposing a new sentence to be voted on by that Council.” Silence. Steve saw Njörd’s jaw work.

“Very well,” he said, finally. “What is your proposal?”

“I propose that the accused be banished from Asgard for the length of his life, never to return except on penalty of death.” Odin’s voice was even, his gaze landing only briefly on Loki where he sat perfectly still. “Furthermore, the accused will be stripped of his title and claim. His name will be stricken from the records of royalty, and all rights of the Aesir revoked from him.” Steve looked to Loki, but he could see nothing on his face or in his posture that gave away his feelings. “Lastly,” Odin went on, “the accused will be returned to the custody of Midgard’s Avengers for whatever punishment they and their realm shall deem fit, with the understanding that any further misdeeds will be punishable by execution, to be carried out by our sole heir, Thor Odinson.”

Steve had to keep himself from gaping at Odin. It was better, he supposed. Better than Loki being _dead,_ but – even knowing as little as he did, it was harsh. What Odin was proposing – sounded very like it was removing everything Loki could claim, down to his identity as one of the Aesir. He wished again that he could reach out and touch Loki, offer some kind of support.

“This is my proposal,” Odin said, and sat down. There was low murmuring throughout the hall, and Steve could see some of the Twelve with their heads bent together. Hretha had her chin propped on her hand, and Bragi was frowning deeply.

“Let us take our time to deliberate,” called the council member Steve thought might be Frey. “Unless there is further evidence to be brought forward?”

“None that I know of,” said Sjöfn, leaning back in her chair with her legs delicately crossed. “Unless something else has come to light?”

“If the Council wishes to withdraw to discuss its decision,” Njörd said, and Steve looked at him, trying to read his face. His lips were thinned but he did not look as though he doubted himself.

The twelve stood and filed out through a door near the end of the hall. Steve watched them, chewing on the inside of his cheek. A quiet chatter rose in the hall. “How long does it usually take them to decide?” Steve asked.

“It depends,” Volstagg said. “Many may have already made their decision. It could be minutes or hours.”

 _Hours,_ Steve thought. His stomach was doing flips. Natasha reached over and gave his arm a squeeze. Steve glanced at Sif, who looked tense but said nothing, staring straight ahead. Steve hesitated a moment and then cleared his throat.

“Thank you for speaking up,” he said quietly. Sif turned her head a fraction and nodded.

“It needed to be done,” she said, voice a little curt. Steve fidgeted and looked toward Loki, wondering what he was thinking right now, sitting there alone and vulnerable with his hands and feet bound.

Barely ten minutes passed before the door at the end of the hall opened again, and the Council filed out, retaking their seats. Steve tried to read something in their expressions, but he wasn’t sure he could make anything out. “Have the members of the Council come to a decision?” Odin asked, once they were all seated.

“Yes,” Njörd said. Steve thought he looked pleased with himself, and his breath caught. “Let the stones be cast.”

Silence fell. The one Steve recognized as Bragi stood first, walking across the room in front of the throne to a woman Steve had scarcely noticed. “I cast my vote,” he said, voice loud and clear, and laid down what looked like a pale grey rock in front of her.

“Probably runestones,” Natasha whispered. “Or something. Sometimes I think Asgard can’t decide whether it’s living in the Stone Age or centuries ahead.”

Two more of the council members stood up, one at a time, and cast their vote, each stating as much before setting their stone down in front of the woman. “Who’s that?” Steve whispered to Natasha, but she shook her head. He tried to peer at the stones, to see if he could tell what each vote meant, but there was no way to tell. Sjöfn caught his eye and smiled at him as she crossed the floor, but the others looked straight ahead, stone-faced. Steve could feel his heart pounding. He looked at Loki’s back, wishing he could see his face or offer some kind of comfort.

Finally, the last of the council members – Njörd – crossed the room and laid down his stone. “I cast my vote,” he said, and then turned to Odin, who stood.

“Count them,” the All-Father commanded, and the woman nodded and stood up.

Steve held his breath, feeling himself vibrate. He looked at Thor, whose face was white, seemingly struggling to sit still. Natasha threaded her arm through his as the woman dressed in plain grey counted out the votes, laying stones on one side, then the other, another to the one side, another to the other…

“Six votes in favor of the proposal of the All-Father,” she said. “Five votes in favor of the proposal of the Council. One abstention.”

It took Steve a moment to understand. A long moment, and then his heart began to lift. “Does that mean,” he whispered to Natasha, and she shushed him, indicating Njörd with a jerk of her head. His face was a blotchy red and white color, and he cleared his throat.

“Does the All-Father…accept…the decision of the Council,” he said, voice audibly strained. Odin stood once again.

“We accept and approve the verdict of the Council of Twelve,” Odin said, his voice ringing out. “If it pleases the Council, let the prisoner be brought forward and the sentence carried out.”

Njörd was clearly struggling to restrain himself. “It pleases the Council,” he said flatly, finally. “Let it be done,” and sat, heavily. Steve glanced along the row of them, and if most had little expression Frey looked downright amused and Sjöfn was whispering something to the one Steve thought was Tyr that made his beard twitch.

The golden ropes holding Loki had vanished. The guards on either side of Loki stood, but he did as well -  before they could pull him up, Steve noticed.

“Loki Odinson,” the king said as the guards escorted him forward to stand before the throne, and Steve noticed the choice of name. “Do you accept the judgment of the Council of Twelve, as it is laid?”

Loki’s voice was quiet, but it carried. “I accept the judgment of the All-Father,” he said, and Steve felt the ripple run through the room, thought he saw Njörd jerk and Odin’s mouth twitch, perhaps, at the corner.

“Then kneel and accept your fate,” Odin said, his face back to a steely mask. Steve watched Loki, his heart in his throat, but with only a slight nudge he bent his knees and bowed his head. “By the power that I hold in me, I banish you, Loki, from Asgard, from now until the end of all the Realms. You shall not return until Yggdrasil burns and the universe falls dark. If you should disobey this commandment, death shall be the sentence, and any citizen of Asgard legally permitted to carry it out.”

Steve thought he saw Loki’s shoulders quiver, but when he focused, Loki looked perfectly still.

“By the power that I hold in me, I strip you of your title and rank. You are no more a Prince of Asgard. Furthermore, you are no longer of Asgard, and cannot claim the rights of one of the Aesir. Let all Realms know that you are Loki of no realm and no rank, who once was Prince and is now brought low. Your name is stricken from the records of the Aesir.”

Steve looked to Thor, who was staring at his brother as though he were trying desperately to communicate some message. Steve could not guess what it was, but he hoped Loki would take comfort from it.

“Lastly,” Odin said, “I call upon Captain Steve Rogers and Agent Natasha Romanov as representatives of Midgard’s Avengers.” Steve stood, slowly, and Natasha with him. “Do you accept the remission of the accused into your custody, Midgardians?”

Steve cleared his throat and was surprised that his voice didn’t sound hoarse when he said, “I do, Your Majesty.”

“You, Loki, are returned to those upon whom your crime was most grievous, and let them do what they will. Out of courtesy to them, you will have the cycle of one day before your banishment begins and you must be gone from Asgard evermore. Know this as well – should word come to our ears of your misdeeds, our mercy will endure no further than to strike you down utterly in that moment. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Loki’s voice was clear and didn’t shake. Steve still wished he could see his face.

“Then it is done.” Odin turned to the council. “I, Odin All-Father, proclaim that the sentence is carried out and the trial complete. Do you assent?”

“The Council assents.” Njörd sounded like he was choking on the words. Odin bowed his head.

“Guards,” he said, “lead the prisoner from the hall. He must needs prepare for his banishment. With the agreement of the Council, I declare this court adjourned.”

Steve jumped to his feet, but the rest of the hall was already standing, and Natasha caught his arm. “Don’t run after him,” she said. “You don’t want to ruin the show.”

Steve caught just the briefest glimpse of Loki’s face as he was led out. His head was held high and his expression was one of serene disdain, careless of everyone around him. He did not glance in either direction, but Steve thought he caught something faintly empty in his eyes. Then he vanished as the crowd filled in behind him. Steve turned back to the throne and saw Thor was already gone.

 _This is good,_ Steve told himself, and it was, was a weight lifted off his back because Loki was still alive and was going to stay that way, but…that was a lot to lose, all at once. He looked up at the throne where the All-Father had sat down once more. “Do you think he planned that all along?”

“Odin?” Natasha hummed. “I wouldn’t be surprised. He seems like a fairly canny politician. Let us do all the legwork and he gets to come out looking as powerful as ever and demonstrate that the Council still does what he wants, in the end.”

Steve felt an inexplicable pang of anger. “If we’d known-”

“What would it have changed?” Natasha asked. Steve clenched his jaw.

“At least Loki would have had some warning that he was going to have everything taken away from him.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to give Loki the opportunity to choose between his pride and his life,” Natasha said. Steve shook his head.

“Where do you think they’ll take him?” He asked Natasha.

“His old room, maybe?” Natasha said. “If they’re giving him time to prepare for exile…it’s either that or the cell.”

Steve searched through the crowd, looking for Frigga, and found her standing pale-faced and thin-lipped, speaking to Odin. He wondered what she was saying.

“Go ahead,” Natasha said quietly. “Get out of here and go find Loki.”

Steve nodded. “Natasha…thank you.” She gave him a crooked smile.

“We won, Steve,” she said. Steve smiled, very slightly, and then leaned down to give her a quick, tight hug.

“I guess we did,” he said, and felt his shoulders sag a little. Natasha gave him a little push.

“Go on,” she said. “Go find him, loverboy. Though if I were you I’d probably wait to do any _real_ celebrating until we get back home.” She leered at him exaggeratedly, and Steve just shook his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re a good friend, Natasha,” he said.

Natasha’s face shaded just faintly pink, but her voice was perfectly dry when she said, “You’re damn right I am. Get me a root beer float and we’ll call it even.”

Steve hugged her again, squared his shoulders, and headed off toward the same exit Thor had taken. He was lucky, he thought. Really, really lucky.

He hoped Loki felt the same way.

* * *

Steve didn’t see Thor. He asked one of the servants where they’d taken Loki (the prisoner, he said, not sure how it was best to refer to him) and was directed down the hall with a vague wave. Steve decided to head for Loki’s old rooms, thinking that maybe they would take him there if they weren’t going to put him back in the dungeons.

He asked directions twice more before he heard Thor’s voice, raised, though he couldn’t make out the words. Alarmed, Steve quickened his steps, straining to hear what Thor was saying. If something had gone wrong, or whoever had tried to poison Loki had tried again now…

“Of _course_ I am glad!” Steve caught at last. “But nonetheless-”

He cut off, but Steve couldn’t hear the reply. He followed the direction of sound and found himself in the hallway he remembered Thor showing him. The doorway to Loki’s room stood open and he was standing just in front of it, his hands still bound and his chin lifted slightly. There was a guard standing to the left, looking uncomfortable.

“My prince,” he said. Thor made a sharp gesture.

“Go,” he said. “Loki is no longer a prisoner, and if there is any fear for his safety then I shall guard him from harm.”

“So gracious of you,” Loki said, slightly too smooth. Thor gave him an irritated look, but the guard bowed and strode away. Loki’s eyes moved sideways and caught on Steve.

“Ah,” he said, “hello, Captain.” Steve felt a sudden lurch of unease. Loki seemed – brittle. “I’d embrace you, but…” He raised his bound hands. Thor flushed, immediately looking ashamed.

“Oh – let me-” Steve couldn’t see what he did, but he heard the click as the cuffs released and Loki extracted his wrists.

“Maybe I should keep those,” he said idly. “A last memorial of Asgard-”

Thor’s jaw set. “This isn’t forever.”

Loki snorted. “You always were an optimistic fool.” He glanced over at Steve again, eyebrows raised. “Are you agreed with Thor, that this victory is insufficient?”

Steve hesitated, and Thor spoke before he could. “I did not _say_ that. Only that it – you are banished, Loki! Exiled! _For good!_ ”

“I am aware,” Loki said, somewhat flatly. “I heard the sentence.”

“But that means – do you not care?”

Loki shrugged. “Why should I? Asgard is not my home. I have known that for some time.”

Thor’s expression flickered between anger and confusion. “How can you be so _calm?_ I am – of course I am relieved, but I still – I did not expect this.” His jaw set. “I will speak to father-”

“You will do no such thing,” Loki said, his voice cracking like a whip.

There was a definite mulishness to Thor’s expression as he stepped forward, crowding into Loki’s space. “Why not? I understand that you are angry, perhaps, right now-”

“You understand nothing. And you will not go to the All-Father because it would be both foolish and futile,” Loki shot back. “Come, Thor, do you really wish to force the good Captain to listen to our bickering?”

Thor glanced over, seeming ashamed. “Steve…”

"Sorry," Steve said hastily. "I'll go."

"No need." Loki looked tense, his shoulders drawn up and not quite looking at Thor. "Thor is simply being foolish." 

"I am not-" Thor huffed out a breath, and gave Steve a pleading look. Steve just stared back at him, not sure what his friend was expecting, and after a moment Thor looked back at Loki. "I am not being foolish. I am merely saying this need not be forever. In a few years they will have forgotten-"

Loki turned, then, meeting Thor's gaze directly. "No, Thor," he said. "They won't. I have burned my bridges here. All the All-Father has done is make it official - and do you understand why he did?"

Thor said nothing, his expression one of displeasure. 

"You do," Loki went on. "Because as long as I am here - as long as I am connected to Asgard and her royal family - I am a weapon that can be used against you. And  _fool that you are_ you would think of me before your own self - your future and Asgard's. Or would you let the realm go to creatures like Njörd and his folk?" 

Thor's expression was positively stormy. "Let them try! I do not care if-"

" _I_ care!" Loki interrupted, and then looked away, his jaw twitching. "Are you the only one allowed to make sacrifices, Thor? You cannot protect me forever!" 

"I have not managed to protect you at all!" Thor's voice cracked, loud and upset, and Loki jerked back, plainly startled. Steve wanted to leave, but worried that moving would draw attention to him and remind the brothers that they weren't alone, and this seemed...important. "From the beginning - I did not see you were struggling, and then I got myself banished and was not here to help you in your time of need. I did not save you when you were falling, or when you were taken by the Chitauri, and then on Earth I - should have done better at convincing you to come home. And when you were hunted across the realms, where was I then? Or when Doom - and even here, it is Steve and mother and Natasha who deserve the credit for your safety while I was useless-"

"Thor," Loki said, his voice very quiet. Steve caught a small shudder in his shoulders, like he was trying not to crack. "You cannot hold yourself responsible for...all of that."

"Why not?" Thor demanded. 

"Because you are not to blame for my choices." Loki's shoulders hunched. "I am. You take too much responsibility, and I too little."

"I am your brother," Thor insisted, and then winced. "I mean only that-"

"You are," Loki said, one corner of his mouth tugging up in a crooked, wry smile. "If my trying to kill you did not change that, I doubt an edict of Odin's will. Unless-"

"Not for me," Thor said quickly, his expression softening a little. "Ragnarok itself could not change that for me." Loki made a faint sound, a huff that wasn't quite a laugh.

"As for protecting me...you have. Always. More than I deserve. You are not responsible for my faults, Thor, or my mistakes - and even you cannot protect me from those."

Thor smiled, just a little, slowly and crooked. "Why not?" He asked again, and if it was only half a joke, this time it was a half of one. 

"Ah, Thor," Loki said, the rough edge in his voice turned into something raw, and Steve did back away, chest aching a little, but not really in a bad way. He could wait. He thought they needed this moment, maybe.

Maybe things could be all right, after all.

* * *

Steve retreated to his own room to pack his things and took his time about it, figuring that Thor and Loki might need some. It wasn’t so long, though, before there was a knock on his door and he opened it to find Thor standing there, looking like he’d just been crying.

“Loki wants to see you,” he said, voice sounding a little wobbly. Steve reached out to give his bicep a squeeze and Thor hauled him into a hug. “Thank you,” his friend said, voice muffled.

“For what?” Steve asked, but Thor just shook his head and released him.

“I need – I need to go say farewell to my friends. Can you find your way to Loki’s rooms?”

“I think so,” Steve said, letting Thor go. “Are you…” He trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence. Thor took a deep breath and let it out in a heavy sigh.

“I think…it feels as though a wound that was infected has been lanced at last,” Thor said. “It hurts, but I think perhaps…perhaps now it will begin to heal.” Thor stepped back. “Go to my brother, Steve.”

He turned and strode off down the hallway. Steve let him go with a little sigh, mostly to himself, and set off for Loki’s rooms – Loki’s old rooms, he supposed. Not his anymore. He wondered what would happen to them, when Loki was erased from Asgard’s records.

He found the door Thor had shown him easily enough. It was guarded, one man on either side, but if they regarded Steve with some caution they did not stop him when he knocked lightly. “It’s me,” he called, and after a moment the door clicked and opened. Steve stepped inside.

Loki was standing by the closet, the doors flung open and his back to Steve, hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t turn when Steve closed the door behind him, and Steve felt a sudden lump of nervousness in his throat.

“You wanted to see me?” He said. Loki turned, then, his head cocked slightly to the side. If he had been crying, there was no trace of it on his face, the corners of his lips quirking up in a very small smile.

“I did that,” he said.

Steve gave up on restraint and surged forward, wrapping his arms around Loki’s waist and pulling him into an embrace, pressing his face into Loki’s hair and taking a deep breath of the smell of him. The lump in his throat changed from fear to relief as he felt Loki relax into him, and tears welled up in his eyes and spilled over. Loki’s hands landed lightly on his back, one splayed between his shoulder blades, and Steve felt himself shudder.

“We did it,” he said, voice shaking just a little. “We won, god, Loki, I was – I was scared that-”

“Hush,” Loki said, and if his voice seemed to be trying for lightness Steve heard the small wobble in it. “Who could have doubted you?”

Steve pulled away just enough to find Loki’s lips and kiss them, and then his cheeks and eyes and forehead, and when he opened his eyes to look at Loki’s face he found his eyes closed and something shockingly open and vulnerable in his expression.

Then Loki pulled away. “I need to decide what to pack,” he said, turning back toward the wardrobe. “It is very thoughtful of Odin, to let me bring some of my things with me, this time. Though now that I look at them…none of it does seem very important.”

Steve turned around, scanning the room. It looked – more alive, with Loki in it. He fit here, Steve thought, which made sense. He didn’t have to think too hard to imagine what it would feel like, leaving a place like that. Maybe it was worse, having the time to really say goodbye, to look at all the things you were leaving behind.

“Is there anything here associated with – good memories?” Steve asked. “Or – I don’t know, books…”

“A few things.” Loki turned away from the closet, closing the doors with a flick of his hand. “It is…strange. I have never belonged here, and I know that, but nonetheless…I wonder what they will do with my things, when I am…gone.”

His voice wobbled, very slightly, and Steve stepped forward, reaching out for his shoulder. Loki didn’t quite duck away, but he did tense when Steve touched him, and he let his hand fall away. “This was your home,” Steve said. “I don’t think – leaving home is never easy.” He paused, and then added, “Thor seems to think-”

“Thor is a fool,” Loki interrupted, voice harsh for a moment, though it softened quickly. “No. I cannot…this is the end. Asgard and I are finished. All Odin has done is make it formal.” Loki drifted over to the bookshelves and ran a finger lightly over some of the spines, pulling one book out and then putting it back. “Perhaps I should leave all of them,” he said, half to himself. “Make a clean break of it. This place was never really my home, after all.”

“That’s not true,” Steve said gently. Loki’s head bowed forward.

“No,” he said, after a moment. “It is not. But it should be.” His voice shook again, just slightly. Steve stepped in close to him and slid his arms around Loki’s waist to hold him close.

“You’re allowed to be upset. And I’m – I’m sorry.”

Loki scoffed, though it sounded strained. “You need not be sorry. It is – horribly selfish of me to focus on such trivialities when you – have had such a trying week.”

“Me?” Steve shook his head, and kissed the back of Loki’s neck. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not trivialities and it’s not selfish. And I’m not the only one to have had a ‘trying’ week.”

There was a soft knock on the door. Loki stiffened, pulling away from Steve. “Who is it?”

“It is me, Loki.” Frigga’s voice, Steve recognized. Loki didn’t relax, glancing at Steve for just a moment before pacing over and opening the door with a stiff bow.

“All-Mother,” he said, his voice carefully polite and formal. Steve stayed standing awkwardly where he was. “To what do I owe the honor?”

Frigga regarded Loki for a moment, then made a slight gesture. The guards on either side of the door bowed and withdrew without question. “Is that how it will be between us?” Frigga asked, her smile a small and fragile thing.

“I would not dare to be discourteous to Asgard’s Queen,” Loki said, still with that stiff, awkward air of formality. Frigga’s eyes flicked to Steve and then back to Loki.

“Do not hide yourself behind court pleasantries, my son,” she said, sounding a little reproachful. “I would rather have your scorn than that.”

Steve watched Loki’s throat bob. “I would not treat you with scorn, either. I may no longer be Asgard’s subject, but the All-Mother deserves respect from all people of all realms.”

“Loki,” Frigga said, stepping forward and raising one hand toward his face. Loki flinched, and she fell still. “If you are angry with me, I understand. But do not seek to hurt me with your distance. I am still your mother.”

“The All-Father-” Loki’s voice broke off, and he paused and then spoke again. “The All-Father has proclaimed it is not so.”

“No,” Frigga said, “in point of fact, he has not.” Loki’s eyes rose, sharply, and Frigga smiled, a very small curve of her lips. “You are no longer a prince. He did not say you are no longer an Odinson. You are still my boy, and will be, as long as the World Tree stands. Nothing can change that.”

Steve looked down at his feet, trying not to shuffle them, feeling again as though he were intruding on a private moment.

“All-Mother – Frigga-” Loki’s voice sounded uncertain, and he broke off, shaking his head. Frigga stepped back.

“I will not ask you for anything just now,” she said gently. “Except that you be willing to speak with me, perhaps once a month. I will come to Midgard.” Her gaze moved to Steve. “Perhaps your Captain would be willing to join us for lunch.” Steve felt his face warm. “You are my son, Loki. And I have missed you.”

Loki nodded, just barely. “I would – I would like that.”

Frigga nodded, and reached for Loki’s hands. He let her take them, to Steve’s eyes, but his fingers stayed limp, and she did not hold on for long.

“Your father,” she began. Loki’s shoulders twitched.

“He is not my father,” he said, voice rough. “You I will accept. But him-”

“He loves you still,” Frigga said softly. Loki turned away, pacing back over to the bookshelves and pulling volumes down, setting them aside.

“Yet I see he is not here,” Loki said flatly. “You are not him, All-Mother. Do not sour your kindness by speaking to me of his care.”

“He grieves for you.”

“Then let him go on grieving,” Loki said, his shoulders bowing as though he were keeping something at bay. Steve went over to him and rested a hand on one of his shoulders, giving it a squeeze. “He and I are done.”

Frigga bowed her head in the doorway, silent for a moment, and then simply nodded. “You know how to contact me,” she said, “when you are ready.”

Loki’s shoulders hunched a little more, and then relaxed. He turned around and kissed Steve’s cheek, then crossed back to the doorway and took Frigga’s hand. “Mother,” he said, stumbling just slightly over the word. “I…”

“I know,” Frigga said, and leaned in, kissing her son’s forehead. Steve had to look away, suddenly missing his own mother with an awful ache. “Captain Steven Rogers,” she called, and he looked back. The Queen of Asgard gestured, beckoning, and he went over almost reluctantly. She bent down and kissed his forehead as well, then met his eyes with that mix of gentleness and steel. “Look after my son,” she said. “He is not always as wise as he thinks.”

“Mother,” Loki said, a trace of exasperation in his voice. Steve cleared his throat.

“I’ll do my best, your Majesty,” he said. She smiled and straightened, inclining her head.

“I wish you both the best of luck,” she said, and then turned, gliding away. Loki let out a long, shuddering exhale, and when Steve turned to him his eyes were closed tightly and he looked shaky. A few tears left streaks on his face, leaking from under his eyelids.

“Loki,” Steve said, softly, worriedly. Loki shook his head, quick and sharp.

“I’m fine,” he said. “I’m…fine.”

“It’s okay not to be, you know,” Steve said. Loki inhaled sharply and bit down on his lower lip, and Steve stepped in close and rubbed his shoulders. Loki’s head dropped forward onto Steve’s chest and Steve could hear him struggling to breathe evenly, but just moved his hand to Loki’s back and rubbed up and down, up and down, until he felt some of the tension ooze back out of his body.

 _It’s going to be okay,_ he thought. _It’s going to be okay now._

* * *

After everything, their departure was a quiet affair.

Sif and a company of the palace guard escorted them to the Bifrost, Loki in their midst with his head held high and dressed once again in all his regalia. Sif had given him a long look upon seeing him, but said nothing. They did not take a direct route, but there were nonetheless a fair number of people standing by and watching. A few raised cheers for Thor, but mostly they were quiet. Loki did not so much as glance to either side. Natasha walked close to Steve, and he could sense the wariness in her.

“If anyone is going to try anything,” she murmured, “now would be the time.”

No one did try anything, though, and they reached the observatory on the Bifrost without incident. The guards fell back at the edge as they approached Heimdall. Sif embraced Thor, saying something quietly to him that Steve deliberately didn’t listen to. Then she turned to Steve and Natasha and offered a bow.

“It was…good to meet some of Thor’s friends, regardless of the circumstances,” she said, sounding only a little awkward. “I hope to have the chance to become better acquainted with you both.”

“Likewise,” Natasha said, lips quirking just a little. “I’d love more of a chance to talk.”

Sif looked a little startled, and then pleased, the inclination of her head toward Natasha slightly more pronounced.

“You’re welcome at the Tower,” Steve said boldly, “if you ever want to come visit.”

“Perhaps I will,” Sif said, “when my duties allow.”

She turned to Loki last, who was standing quietly and looking back toward the city, his expression impossible to read. “Loki,” she said, and he turned his head to look at her, eyebrows raised.

“Yes, Lady Sif?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it and shook her head, striding toward him. Loki tensed visibly, but Sif embraced him as she had Thor, though more briefly. “Go well,” she said, the edges of her voice a little rough. “You are not so hated here as you would believe.”

Sif stepped back quickly and turned away. Loki’s expression was perfectly startled, though he managed to wipe it mostly clean before long. Thor looked like he wanted to say something, but instead turned to Heimdall.

“Heimdall,” he said, “is the Bifrost ready?”

“It is, Prince Thor. At your word.” He paused, and then added, “Loki. Have you said all of your farewells? Remember that you will not come this way again.”

“I have,” Loki said, voice perfectly neutral. “Let us be done with this.”

Heimdall inclined his head and looked to Thor. Thor glanced at Sif, and then at Steve and Natasha. Steve nodded, trying to look encouraging and bracing himself. “Heimdall,” Thor said, “open the Bifrost.”

The gatekeeper brought his sword up, twisted it, and pushed it down, and Asgard’s observatory vanished in a whirl of light and sound. It lasted a minute; it lasted forever, and then Steve felt solid ground under his feet and nearly staggered. He turned at once towards Loki, who was looking up, something strange on his face. Wistful and a little lost.

“Loki?” Steve said, taking a step toward him, and with what looked like an effort Loki’s gaze moved from the sky to Steve. He took another step closer and reached out, taking Loki’s face gently in his hands and pulling him into a kiss. Loki’s hands clutched at his shoulders for a moment, then slid down his back. Steve could feel him trembling very slightly.

“It’s over,” Loki said, voice barely above a whisper. Steve kissed him again, letting his hands slide down so his thumbs could stroke Loki’s jaw, fingers on the back of his neck.

“You’re still here,” Steve said, just as quietly, the ache in his heart hoping that would be enough. Loki seemed to slump, his eyes closing.

“Welcome home, Captain Rogers, Prince Thor, Ms. Romanoff,” said JARVIS’s familiar voice, and after a pause, added, “Loki.” Steve let his fingers tangle in Loki’s hair and rested his forehead against Loki’s.

“We’re home,” he said quietly. After a moment, Loki nodded, very slightly.

“So we are,” he said. “So we are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end of a very long journey (for me, anyway). Not to say this is the end of Remember This Cold! Far from it. I have at least two more installments floating around in my head and another follow up for this fic (at least one) and probably I will never mark this verse officially complete because there will always be more stories I could write about Steve and Loki fucking (and having a lot of feelings. So many feelings). 
> 
> Still, though - here at the end of a fic that took me about six months and prodigious agony to write, and is the longest single installment of a thing I've written...probably ever. Definitely ever. So I'm a little proud: I got an ice cream cake for myself and everything. Thank you to all of my readers and reviewers, my sweet, sweet followers on tumblr, and my wonderful beta/Steve [ameliarating](http://ameliarating.tumblr.com), who keeps me on track and sane. Seriously, thank you. 
> 
> As always, you can find me and my dubious trashblogging on Tumblr at [veliseraptor](http://veliseraptor.tumblr.com), and always feel free to ask me questions about my fic - or other things. It makes me feel important, and I love feeling important. 
> 
> Until next time.


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